#that hollowness you feel after finishing reading a book

[kachowder]

Thinking about a arranged marriage, in which darling denies their spouse any opportunity to touch them. For reader, they have no reason to believe this would ever be a equal relationship. They believed, if they serviced their spouse well, and played the part of a dutiful partner, they would be able to lead a comfortable life without any unnecessary drama or hurt feelings on their end.

Of course they didn’t take into account how absolutely obsessed their spouse is with them, and how much pain their in each time their denied the chance to touch their darling.

Every intimate act between the couple, the darling does all the work. Weather it be quick services with their mouth or body, as soon as their spouse finishes the darling hops off and makes their way back to their room to take care of their own needs or read a new book. And their spouse is fucking devastated each and every time.

Their fingers grip their darlings shoulder or hair, savoring that moment of contact before their orgasm hits and the warmth of their love leaves them for the remainder of the night. No aftercare, no kisses, and worst of all, they don’t get to see their darling cum. Ever.

“Darling…? If it’s not too much to ask..”

“Yes my love?”

And they’d shiver at the hollow endearment.

“Well..perhaps we could engage in some more intimacy tonight…? I could-“

“Ah.” And their darling would pause, bringing a hand to rub their jaw tenderly. “Well, my jaw is still a little sore from last time, but if you wish I can certainly help you again.”

“N..No..I mean, I could..I could take care of you…tonight…”

“Oh. That won’t be necessary my dear.”

And god how their heart fucking breaks at that, brows furrowing nervously as they try to resist the temptation to fall to their knees and beg. Beg to taste their darlings flesh and finally feel their lips pressed against their own. Their eyes nearly well with tears, the untamed desire burning them to the core. Their darling was so cruel to them.

“But I insist, I can-“

“Do not worry my love. I’ll take care of you tonight so you won’t be so stressed for your meeting tomorrow. Or if you’d like I could find you more suitable company for the night?”

The repulsion in their body would nearly make their stomach swell with nausea at the mere idea of laying in bed with another that wasn’t their beloved darling.

“I’m…No thank you, my love.”

And you, the silly little darling won’t understand why your spouse seems so disheartened. You’d been the perfect partner, anyone’s dream. You kept to yourself, did what you were asked. They never had to care for you needs or wants beyond your allowance and the occasional outing.

You could admit you were married to a very attractive and respectable figure. Known for their kindness and intelligence. You considered yourself lucky as to deal with someone so agreeable.

And there were times you wished for a warm body besides yours in the dead of night. Someone to lay upon after you’ve both been spent.

But that vulnerability was too scary for yourself. Fear that your heart would hurt more if you let yourself feel the pain of neglect after. So, this arrangement you’d crafted for yourself would have to do.

Well, until the night you’d found your depraved lovers head buried between your thighs, moaning like a starved fool.

What a sight to awaken too.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x oc #x reader #x gender neutral reader

[paper-star-ships]

Y’all ever run into something that checks all the boxes for a thing you should like but you don’t like it anyway

#pdf.chatterbox #anyway Jackaby is boring :/ #which is wild cause!!! it’s odd!!! it’s charming!!! by all means I SHOULD love it #and yet #I am bored #might be the burnout making everything feel boring idk ahdiaif #and I miss House Of Hollow #it wasn’t perfect (and I am a champion at nit-picking I can tell you that) but I couldn’t put that book down #after a certain point at least #I am committed to finishing Jackaby tho 😤 #I will read Bone Houses next

[milkyhoneybee]

Unethical magic friend who uses you to solve their problems without asking you or considering your comfort

They ran out of milk for their morning coffee? They snap their fingers and suddenly your tits are massive and leaking milk. They take what they need and don't bother changing you back until they remember hours or days later, even if you try to remind them they just wave you off saying 'sure, sure, I just need to finish working out this summoning circle' and get distracted again

Sometimes they read something in a book that gets them horny or there's something they couldn't figure out, or they just pass someone in the market who takes their fancy, so guess who's helping them recreate it? You lose track of the amount of times you've been turned into the current object of their desires-- you don't even remember what your original hair colour was at this point, though you think you're mostly the same as you were when they change you back... but, enough subtle differences over time can build up...

Not to mention the times you've ended up with tentacles or horns or fangs or a foot long tongue, genitals of every configuration, or been transformed into slime and used just for their pleasure, or, more humiliatingly, been used in some test or experiment, or used to get spell ingredients

You would leave, you think, even if it didn't usually feel so good you lose control of yourself, but you didn't realise how binding a mage's "friendship bracelets" were when you first accepted it when you became friends, and now even if you do go anywhere, they can summon you back without trouble

They just conjure you some souvenir or some kind of 'treat' if you complain, and you feel your cheeks flush with the patronising nature of it. None of your complaints are ever taken seriously

Sometimes they'll summon a demon or other creature either for information or for some task, and you've ended up being used as payment or to placate them. You start drooling and going weak at the knees whenever you smell succubus milk or incubus cum from the amount of times you've been exposed to it already-- you're honestly worried it'll become an addiction before too long...

The one time you tried to sabotage one of your friends spells, hoping they'd get a taste of their own medicine, and while at first it was satisfying seeing their look of panic when the magic went awry, it didn't last long...

When you looked at their spell book and saw they were trying to create an armour spell as strong as dragon scales, you figured out just what your interference had caused, watching those glistening sapphire scales spread along their growing, shifting limbs, long claws growing in, a tail stretching out behind them, horns and wings starting to form

Unfortunately, your friend was still conscious enough to realise it was you that had caused the issue, and they had no qualms about 'punishing' you for it

Increasingly they grew larger and stronger than you, long maw full of sharp fangs and a wicked tongue grinning as they pinned you down under one paw. The tongue that shoved itself inside you was larger than some of the cocks you'd taken before, making you squeal and writhe, body shaking when the edge of claws sent little trickles of blood down your thighs and sides. They pressed you down harder into the floor, growling like a thunderstorm and started fucking their tongue into you. Suddenly, their haunches were over your face, their serpentine body much more flexible and longer than their human one, and your eyes widened at the sight of the cock hanging heavy and flushed, pushing past the split of scales between their legs

Even trying to keep your mouth closed didn't save you, your draconic friend simply smothering you with their cock until you were forced to take a breath, and after letting you get a little air, they took the opportunity to ram their cock straight down your throat. You can't fight back at all as they fill you from both ends, feeling like a toy being hollowed out

Their cock is covered in ridges and the slick confines of your throat drag against them in a way that, from what you can still manage to piece together due to the lack of consistent air, must feel good. They even get their tail wrapped around your throat, making your watering eyes roll up as they tighten their hold

You pass out, of course

Thankfully, they must have pulled out before the lack of air completely did you in (though you have no way to tell, perhaps they could still cast necromantic magic in dragon form?) but you come to in fits and starts, finally piecing enough of yourself together when you're being held in both of their front paws, your hole stretched and leaking around their cock as they bounce you up and down its length

From the way your belly sloshes, and how sticky your legs are (not to mention the rest of you, you assume), you can guess they've already cum in you a few times while you were out cold

When the draconic mage finally finishes with you, you're left slumped over, face half laying in a puddle of cum and you don't think you'll ever not smell like it or if you'll ever taste anything else again. You don't know if you can even talk any more from having your throat so thoroughly fucked. Not to mention if your holes will recover after being stretched out and absolutely ruined on that massive dragon cock...

Of course, leaving them a dragon doesn't seem like a good idea for anyone. Once you get enough energy and brain cells to rub together, and manage to clean up a bit, you get herded over to their spell book. They eventually nudge you and manage to gesture, growl, and, at times, roughly manipulate you, until you can brew a potion to change them back

Once they're back on two legs? 'Well, that was fun, wasn't it?'

#nsft fantasy #nsft concept #tf kink #unethical mage #monster fucker #objectification kink

[kakiav]

zoro loves his girl in a bikini ☆彡

nsfw content below! ੈ♡‧₊˚

zoro thinks it’s so cute that every stop they make on the ship you have to go and find a clothing store. nami always accompanies you, trying to score a deal with her charm (it’s works most of the time.) so he doesn’t mind leaving your side for a couple hours, knowing you’re safe due to his rigorous training exercises you join in.

after picking out the cutest bikini in the shop, a dark green color that barely covers your tits and ass. you happily skip back to the ship and sun bathe whilst reading a book robin recommended. once you climb aboard the ship, you change into the bikini underneath a coverup. sanji is often pesters you if you want him to make a drink or food.

laying in your favorite spot, you take off your coverup and begin reading. losing track of time, you fail to notice zoro’s heavy footsteps coming closer to you. only noticing when his shadow blocks the sun.

“hey baby. I didn’t hear you coming aboard? you find anything nice?” you politely ask, taking in the view of zoro’s pants right above your face.

“no. apparently you did though.” zoro chuckles motioning at your swimsuit. “looks like the color I wear.” he crouches next to your face, fingers toying with the bikini straps.

“picked it out for you.”

zoro smirks knowing how eager you are to please him. plus he loves seeing you in those slutty little bikinis that you wear. even though they will end up being torn off.

you sit up to talk face to face, sliding a book mark on the page you finished reading. his hands roam your exposed body, drinking in the view.

“wanna see it more?” zoro nods and sits back against a post, placing his swords next to him. you walk away from him and do a quick 360 turn. he parts his legs feeling his dick stir. doing exactly as your boyfriend likes, jumping up and down watching your breasts jiggle, nipple almost slipping out. followed by you bending over and shaking your ass, arching your back.

“come on sweet girl. go show me how much you love me.” zoro unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock. obediently you crawl towards him eagerly licking your lips.

placing a kiss on the tip of his cock, zoro tucks your hair behind your ear. you stare at him seductively, stroking his cock with both hands that pushes your tits together. feeling your arousal pooling in the tiny bikini, you get yourself off by sucking zoro off. taking inch by inch into your mouth, lips stretched as much as it will allow you. zoro groans at how you hollow out your cheeks and bob up and down. saliva drips down from the corners of your mouth and onto your chin. since zoro is so big, you jerk off the inch of cock you can suck off. he leans forward to slap your ass earning a gasp out of you and pushes your head down further. steadying your body, you place your hands on his thighs.

“love my cock huh? you drunk off of it already?” he taunts but you’re too busy slobbering over his cock. your eyes sting with tears, snot starting to come out of your nose. zoro rests a hand on the small of your body, soothing you.

“y/n-chan! are you okay? do you need my help?” sanji shouts, he must have just come back from the island. grocery bags still in his hands.

“she’s fine mr. nosebleed. busy sucking me off.” zoro nonchalantly answers as you moan around his cock at the fact sanji is watching you please your man.

the blond cook struggles to form words, rushing into the kitchen to stop his nose from bleeding. you stop and take a deep breath, wiping your nose.

“did I say you can stop?” he deliveres a harsh blow to your asscheek. whining at the pain, you focus back on the task of making zoro cum quickly. mainly for him to hurry up and rip off your bikini, fucking you senselessly.

#☆.op drabble #zoro x reader #zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro smut #one piece x reader #one piece smut

[tatterings]

Halstarion headcanon of Halsin's love

Obviously, NSFW under the cut... but my headcanons of Halsin's intimacy style with his vampire love. <3 full disclosure i have not proofread this lol

Warning - minor mention of Astarion's trauma

(EDIT: If you like this content you'll definitely like what will be in future chapters of my current Halstarion fic!)

Halsin is the ultimate soft tender dom. Checking in for Astarion’s consent with a head nod or a raised eyebrow. Any tenseness he feels in Astarion’s body, any time Astarion’s eyes glaze over or stare into the distance (because trauma is not something you heal from after having sex once on top of a grave, it's not magically gone. It takes time and healing so this still happens occasionally), sexual intimacy is paused/stopped. Other intimacy is an option, to give Astarion a safe, soft space. For example, he would whisk Astarion away to a bath and climb in with him, lathering bergamot-scented shampoo into his hair, massaging the vampire’s scalp and neck. Or he would pull a blanket over them both, and pull Astarion to his chest and read aloud from the book they’re finishing together.

There’s absolutely no way Halsin can sit still; the man has trouble shifting into a BEAR with passion. He would buck his hips against Astarion’s teasing. He’d grind on the bed as he opened his lips over the pretty pink tip of Astarion’s throbbing cock and lapped at the sensitive slit at the tip. His hands would be in so many places at once seeking stimulation and movement. Most of the time, he’d have one hand reaching upward, fingers interlaced with Astarion’s fingers. Because, he knew, two squeezes meant slow down. Three meant stop. They’d never had to say it verbally. Halsin just knew.

He’d be absolutely down for letting Astarion take him. He’d encourage it. He wants his heart to experience all of nature’s pleasures, including being top. He’d cede control to Astarion willingly, freely, whenever asked and more. His generosity knows no bounds.

He’d be a filthy talker in bed with his vampire love; but a sweet one. “Can you come for me, Astarion?” he’d say, intentionally edging his partner at first, until: “My heart, let yourself feel bliss; one more time, come for me my dear one.” And “My darling Astarion, you’re sweeter than the ripest blackberries, the purest honey,” as he uses his wide tongue to lick Astarion’s spilled ecstasy from his pale lower belly.

Speaking of talking, he’d be so full of praise for Astarion. Astarion, who had experienced only insult or hollow praises about his body, finally experiences someone speaking to him in earnestness, in love.

He’d kiss Astarion’s bite scar, running his tongue and lips over the pinpricks. Reclaiming a mark of slavery and instead nibbling in the same spot out of love. Removing the stigma, the pain from the bite, to replace Astarion's association with a mouth on his neck with ecstasy, pleasure, and consent.

An aftercare CHAMP and I’m not talking like bdsm stuff, which might or might not be something Astarion is into, but even just general sexual intimacy aftercare. Halsin would still focus on making Astarion feel good about his body for more than just sex. He’d lay beside his vampire and rub the pads of his fingers on Astarion’s back, massaging his lat muscles, sore from pulling his short bow. Braiding his white hair in French braids, just to take them out and braid them again. Always, of course, offering his neck to Astarion after any particularly vigorous lovemaking so his little pale love is in tip-top health.

Also Halsin is just fucking super smart and would protect his smaller lover and make sure Astarion isn’t harmed when Halsin takes him. He’d formulate some sort of lubricant that also has healing potion qualities, so any potential lack of preparedness is a non-issue.

Halsin’s so intuitive, that when he is inside his lover, he would know precisely when he is at just the right spot. He would have 0 complaints about moving only an inch or two at a time, back and forth, to almost unbearably focus on Astarion’s prostate, no matter how agonizingly tempting it would be for himself to bury himself to the root.

#halstarion #astarion x halsin #halsin x astarion #halsin/astarion #astarion/halsin #bg3 smut #astarion smut #halsin smut #bg3 headcanons

[mooshywrites]

Something Borrowed, Something New

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Female!tav

Masterlist

Art commissions

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─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - i just finished my play through of my astarion run and to say i feel hollow about the ending is SUCH an understatement. So since the game doesn’t have the storage space to give me a slice of life simulator with my favorite vampire, then ive decided to make one myself ~

Word count - 1.6K

Warnings - N/A ~ sickly sweet fluff, minor spoilers, baby’s first blurb

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“My darling, if you keep your nose buried in those books, your life is going to pass before your eyes.”

The gentle tease brought your wandering tiefling mind hurtling back to earth. In truth, you hadn’t even been reading, the words in front of you becoming a mess of blurry text and complicated theories. You lifted your gaze to meet the source of the tease, the entire reason behind your recent studies.

“It’s an important book, Astarion. The shopkeep said this book has anything and everything anyone knows about vampires.” Your lips took on a slight smile as the exasperation in your voice lifted, “Or do you want to spend the rest of your life trying to remember what the sun feels like.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, leaning back against the plush chair and crossing his arms, “That shopkeep of yours is a con-man. If there was a cure to being what I am, it wouldn’t be in some silly book.”

The elf softened his tone as he saw the way his lover’s shoulders dropped, knowing it wasn’t fair to discredit any of her attempts at curing his… affliction. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t at least attempt to sleep, darling.”

You allowed yourself a dramatic sigh as the book slipped out of your hands, being gently taken by the white-haired thief. You knew he was right, knew that there was no more information to glean from this book, especially not while your eyes drooped and your mind grew foggy. As much as you hated giving Astarion the pleasure of being right, and you did hate it, you were exhausted. Exhausted and feeling utterly hopeless at your task

”You may be right.” You said in a small voice, “It would be much to easy to open a book and find a spell to let a vampire spawn walk in the sunlight”

The cushion you sat upon dipped slightly, gentle arms pulling you into a comforting embrace.

“You know how uncomfortable seeing you in pain makes me, pet” Astarion murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

”I just want to find a cure already” You protested, “A spell, a potion, a demon contract I can sign to get you under that god-forsaken ball of fire again. You would think that taking down a hoard of ilithid would make any challenge look like a stroll through the woods.” Your words were tense and harsh, a tone you immediately regretted as you felt the pale elf beside you stiffen against it.

“You must have patience, my darling. It’s only been a couple of years since we’ve began this journey.” His fingers poked into your side teasingly, earning a small laugh. “We do have forever, you know.

“Mmhm, forever with a dramatic vampire who wants to go adventuring for a cure but hates being away from his precious comforts.” You teased, looking back up at him.

”Oh, please.” Astarion tutted disapprovingly. “You’d think after a couple centuries of servitude and then saving the world would earn a man the rights to a comfort or two.”

Your sleepy head found a comfortable place in the crook of the vampires neck, the rest of you leaning into his cool touch. “Well if you’re so attached to them, maybe we should just stay here and find a way to enjoy your ‘comfort or two.”

Silence fell over the small room in the even tinier inn. You were uncomfortably aware of the lack of snide remark back from your partner. With Astarion, silence was always an abnormality.

”Or somewhere bigger.” You added jokingly, your voice coming out as an unsure whisper.

You weren’t sure about how Astarion felt about settling down. In truth, it hadn’t come up in the time you’d been together so far. Most of your talks were about next steps, new theories, different wizards to contact with questions about Astarion’s condition. Neither of you had been brave enough to talk about the life you might both lead if Astarion was able to live normally again. Neither brave enough to face the disappointment of that future being possibly impossible. But the more you adventured, the more days spent sleeping in one Inn after another, you felt the longing to put down roots more and more every day.

You bit your lip, hands nervously picking at nails already picked to the short. Wouldn’t Astarion find that kind of thinking entirely selfish? How could you ask him to sacrifice further potential freedom?

You were brought back to your thoughts again as Astarion’s slender hand tilted your chin towards his gaze. The relief that filled you as you saw his knowing smile was probably laughable, the crinkles next to his eyes as he grinned dissipating what was left of your anxiety. What did it matter where you were and what you were doing or where your head lay when daylight started to seem into the sky? It’s the person you awoke beside that’s important.

”What thoughts fill those pretty head of yours?” Astarion teased. Peering at your forehead as he were trying to see the physical thoughts.

”Oh, just thinking of what a nightmare you will be when we have a place of our own after this mess.” You retorted, smiling, pulling your best impersonation of the man next to you “Oh, not there, darling. Those drapes simply must be a hair to the left. And who on earth did this border? Aht, no one in this town can embroider properly.” You flourished your hands dramatically, putting on a rather good play of the vampire.

”I don’t sound a thing like that, love.” He replied, feigning offense. “Besides, I would be right to say that. Not a soul knows the right way to handle a needle and thread. I suppose I’ll have to take up the position, myself.”

“You? Start a shop and make honest money?” You scoffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Well why couldn’t I?” The familiar whiny tone you knew and loved began creeping back into his voice. “How much could a shop possibly cost? I would create marvels of woven artistry and you could do… well… everything else.” He finished certainly.

”That seems much too boring for someone like you, Astarion.” He couldn’t possibly be serious about this. Astarion? A shopkeep? He was rather skilled with fabrics, but would he be satisfied with such a simple life?

”Boring sounds… nice.” Astarion replied simply, his words becoming soft and serious. “Maybe sunlight isn’t worth watching the years roll by before me.”

Your breath stilled as you faced him.

“You… You want to settle down?” You asked.

Astarion scoffed, the humor settling back into his tone. “Settle down? I simply offered staying in one place for more than a few nights. You excite to easily, my darling.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly, thankful for the end of the serious moment. Even now, you couldn’t always wrap your mind around Astarion’s. Whether he was joking or now, what he really wanted in the end. It somehow always seemed a mystery right outside of your grasp.

”What would you say to that, however?” Astarion prodded. “If I told you that I wanted to… well, uhm… settle down?”

You paused for a moment, eyes narrowing as you searched his red irises.

“I would wonder if you’ve been replaced by a doppelgänger.” You replied accusingly.

“Well” he sighed, exasperated. “ Then write me down as a doppelgänger, I’d like to live in a little house with a shop downstairs filled with my own creations. To be horribly and utterly… domestic.”

You couldn’t help the wide smile that crawled across your face. The hope and excitement that filled your face.

”Oh don’t look at me like that!” Astarion complained, giving you a look of mock horror. “You look as if I just told you that I’ve given up a life of debauchery.”

You shrugged, grinning wickedly, “Is that not what you’re saying, Astarion?”

”No, of course not, darling.” He replied defiantly. “I’m just saying that I’m going to find a way to buy the next empty building we see and see how many people can be manipulated into buying my creations.”

”Lucky for you, Baldur’s Gate is within a day's travel. You may have to put your coin where your sinful mouth is.” You said with finality, truly thinking you were calling his bluff.”

“It’s settled then.” He smirked, leaning in to place a searing kiss against your unexpecting lips. You felt his arms snake further around you and… past you?

With difficulty, you willed yourself to pull away from the kiss, looking behind yourself questioningly. ”What are you-“ You paused, seeing the gold rimmed vase Astarion now had in his grasp.”

”It’s our something borrowed.” He shrugged. “For our new shop.”

You couldn’t hold back the almost overly dramatic eye roll. “First, love, that’s not borrowing, that’s stealing and two…” You felt your cheeks heat. “The phrase ‘something borrowed, something new’ is for wedding’s. Not for new shops and homes.”

”Oh, well… we should probably do that too.” Astarion said plainly, scooping you up to carry you to the bed not a stone’s toss away.

You gasped, hitting his chest gentle and putting on your best glare. “That is not how you propose to a woman you cur.”

Astarion chuckled as he placed you on the bed, climbing under the blankets with you. “You can lecture me about that tomorrow, darling. For now-“ He brushed his lips against yours, a sweet and loving kiss, “You simply must get some sleep. How else will we go shopping for your ‘something new’ tomorrow?”

You smiled as you leaned into his touch, snuggling against his chest. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, he’d probably hear your excitement for the future through your words and not believe your chiding anyways. you were thankful for the ability to hide your face against him, your fingers tracing lazy circles along his chest,

If it weren’t for the gentle pale reds and purples that began to chase away the deep blue night, you could’ve stayed awake grinning like that forever.

#astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #fluff #baldurs gate tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav

[leezlelatch]

Comfort From The Eldest

This is something I've had in my drafts forever. It was written after I had a really harsh interaction with a coworker, and I hope that it provides the same level of comfort to you as it did for me when I was having difficulties. Female reader. Fluff, comfort, protective papas.

Primo 

You almost feel ridiculous for being upset. It’s not like you did anything. It was the other party. But you feel awful. Every part of that conversation is ringing in your head and won’t let go. Someone took their anger out on you because they were hurting, you realize that. You know they didn’t actually mean it, but you can’t help the hurt that’s sitting in your gut like a rock. 

You sigh as you sink into Primo’s preferred chair in his little observatory. His telescope sits mounted beside it, eye toward the heavens. Maybe you should take a peak. Look at something beyond you, bigger than you, to make your problems seem smaller than they are. 

“Petal?” Primo’s deep voice echoes through the space, startling you. 

You look up to see him standing inside the doorway. He holds a book to his side, his other hand carrying a cup of tea which steams into the air. His reading glasses sit perched on his hooked nose. He isn’t wearing his paints, his wrinkled and hawk-like features on display for your weary eyes. Primo’s beauty is a balm. 

“I am surprised to see you here, sweet petal, but nonetheless delighted,” he continues, sweeping into the room to set his cup down on a pretty flower doily on the surface of his desk. “It does an old man’s heart good to see his preziosa.”

“I like it here…this is your space,” you say softly. 

“You know you are welcome at all-,” he pauses as he turns away from his desk, his eyes sweeping over your form. 

“What happened?” His tone has changed immediately. It’s sharp, coiled, ready to strike. 

“What do you mean?” You try to laugh it off, your lips curling into a smile, but to your own ears it sounds hollow. 

Primo moves toward you in a way that sends a shiver straight down your spine. It’s quick, straight, so unlike his usual unhurried gait brought on by age. He kneels beside the chair with no more than a small huff and takes your hands, his eyes searching yours. The white of his left eye looks narrowed, as if it sees more than you can comprehend. 

“You look so sad, amore mio. Your Papa may be old, my darling, but he is not blind. I know every tick of that beautiful face.” 

Your eyes burn and you try to look away, but long fingers capture your chin, keeping your gaze. Primo’s expression melts into a soft smile, his fingers sliding up to trace the curve of your cheek. You immediately crumble and tell him everything, the former Papa wildly attentive. He squeezes your hand when you begin to choke up, he nods along with your words, and he never interrupts you. 

Primo pats your legs when you finish, “Up, petal,” he says, waiting for you to move so he can sink down into his chair with a soft groan. He holds out his arms and you gently fall into his lap. He nuzzles into the side of your head for a moment before reaching out toward his telescope. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. He peaks into the lens, adjusting it here and there before a satisfied “ah!” leaves his lips. “There we are, petal, look here.” 

You look at him for a moment, his smile encouraging, before you look through the lens. You see a beautiful star, shining in the sky, likely thousands of light years away. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say, smiling at him. 

“It’s you,” he says. “I named it after you. After my brightest star, who brings me happiness beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Who is kind, loving, and clever. Unfortunately, she has to put up with un vecchio coglione.” 

“Oh, hush,” you laugh through a fresh bout of tears. “Primo…” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his lips. 

“I love you,” you say. 

“And I love you. Now…tell me who this…bastardo was again?” 

Secondo 

Secondo sits wearily at his desk, gazing down at the report from the recent restoration project of artifacts found within an abbey in the mountains of Italy which possibly point to an early Satanic organization the current institution can draw roots from. The name Emeritus appears on a portrait of a man dressed in a bastardized version of medieval Catholic vestments, and Secondo is heading the preservation and research project to determine whether the man is an ancestor of the Emeritus line or if the name merely signifies the man's retired position. 

A hesitant knock on his door tumbles Secondo from his thoughts and he gazes with a heavy brow at the dark oak, willing it not to open, but after several seconds, the knock comes again, and he blows out a breath between his teeth in frustration.

"Enter." 

The door creaks open, and Secondo need only see the sleeve of your sweater before his body is relaxing, a pleased smile crossing his features as you come further into view, peeking behind the door with those eyes which captivate him wholly, and that mischievous little smile the man greatly enjoys kissing from your face. 

"Enter? That tone says otherwise," you tease, slipping into the room and shutting the door firmly behind you. 

Secondo harrumphs, tilting his head back a little, pinning you to the spot with his heavy gaze that never fails to send a thrill shooting from your heart to...well, other more enjoyable places.

"Perhaps I do not wish to be disturbed, la mia piccola interruzione," he says.

The shining look in your eyes is snuffed out in an instant, your body growing taut with anxiety. He watches with muted horror as you practically curl into yourself, your feet already moving you back toward his office door, your hands wringing fretfully in front of you.

"Am I really disturbing you? I'm so sorry, Papa," you say in a tone Secondo never wishes to hear again. Full of diffidence and self-doubt.

His chair hits the wall behind him when he stands up, his robes fluttering around his form as he quickly rounds his desk. Fingers desperately reach for you, a panicked look in the usually stoic Papa's eyes as he draws you into his embrace, his hands cradling your head to his chest for a moment before he's tilting it back, his palms smoothing back your hair while he searches your gaze for any hint to your distress. Your façade quickly crumbles, tears springing to your eyes, and you attempt to turn from him, but Secondo's hands hold fast, not allowing you to break from his gaze, from his hold. 

He would hold you forever. 

"Tell me. Tell me, il mio tutto. What has happened? You know I would never," Secondo pauses and sighs, closing his eyes. "I must be more mindful of my words. You are not just a Sibling or a member of the Clergy, you are my life. Perdonami." 

"It's okay, Seco, I'm just being ridiculous," you say with a tearful grimace, shrugging your shoulders as you look to the side. 

Secondo makes a low hum, drawing you even closer, wrapping the heavy cloth of his chasuble around you. You are immediately enveloped in his warmth and his scent, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He keeps you near, quietly, for a moment, gently swaying as a torrent of thoughts passes his mind. He sighs softly and shifts so you are looking into his eyes once more. 

"You, amore mio, are not ridiculous. You are the very joy in my heart. You are the warmth of the sun on my skin. I should not speak to you in any manner but that of love," he says.

Your brow furrows for a moment and then clears, realization dawning in your eyes, "Oh, Secondo, I'm not upset over what you said. I mean, yes, I was afraid I was disturbing you, but that's...someone upset me earlier. I was already feeling unwanted anyway, and..."

Secondo's pupils narrow and he cocks his head to the side, a cold smile spreading his lips as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

"Come, dolcezza," he guides you to sit in the chair before his desk. "Sit here, and tell your Papa exactly who hurt you and where to find them."

“I love you, but that won’t solve anything,” you sigh, settling into the chair. Secondo sits on the arm, towering over you and creating a blanket with his presence. He reaches out a hand to idly play with your hair while gazing down at you with an unreadable expression, his jaw clenching. 

“What I need to solve is this issue you have brought to my attention. That you believe you are unwanted,” Secondo shivers at the thought, his hand falling to your shoulder and gripping it as if to keep him anchored. “I have done you a great disservice, and I have failed you as a partner in not addressing this sooner.”

You surge forward to protest, but Secondo silences you by cradling the back of your head and pushing you into his lap, resting your head against his thigh as he continues to speak. “I love you. Perhaps I do not say it enough, but I have never known such happiness other than the precious moments we have spent together. You have given an old man hope. I want you. I need you. I think about you and crave your touch when we are not together. I ache to hold you, to look into your beautiful eyes, that sweet face. Please, amore mio, my everything, do not think you are unwanted. I am nothing without you.”

You take in a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his chasuble, as you whisper your love to him in a voice thick with tears. Secondo cups your chin and lifts your head from his lap, his smile soft, but eyes sharp as a knife. 

“Now, be a good girl and tell your Papa where to find the fool who hurt il mio tesoro?” 

“What if it’s my own brain?” You ask with a weak laugh. 

Secondo leans down to place a featherlight kiss to your lips. “Then I will fight it with patience, love, and the stubbornness of an old man.” He winks. “I’ve been fighting mine for years.”

#the band ghost #Papa Emeritus I #Papa Emeritus II #primo emeritus #secondo emeritus #primo x female reader #papa emeritus i x female reader #secondo x female reader #papa emeritus ii x female reader #comfort fic #the band ghost fanfiction

[eloquentreverie]

warnings: minors do not interact! smut, oral sex (male recieving), unprotected sex. also this is my first time writing about jake jensen so please be kind.

word count: 954

pairing: jake jensen x girlfriend!reader

gamer!boyfriend jake jensen thots below!

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒙

Thinking about gamer!boyfriend jake jensen who has his hair grown out a little and likes to play his video games after dinner. So you’re literally just stuck in his bed, reading your book, all while he’s talking to his buddies. But after a while, you get tired of the incessant clicking coming from his Xbox controller. And you know, whispering in his ear won’t get him to budge so you slip off the bed and pull down his sweats, knowing he can’t really protest or do anything.

His brow raises when the cool air of the bedroom exposes his soft cock. But as soon as you wrap your lips around the head, you feel him start to grow hard in your mouth, making him cough out a gasp.

"F-Fuck baby-" He starts to experience a little haywire in his game, with all his buttons going a bit faster now, and you smirk a little because your lips are tightly stretched over the head. He’s still just a little more than half soft, but you know exactly what you can do to make him come in no time at all. “Can we-do this some other time? I-I’ve already spent so long playing my game.”

So he wants to talk strategy and be technical about the gameplay, huh?

With his half-soft, thickening cock stuffed in your mouth, all his tactics seem to go out the door when you pull off briefly, giving his cock a little slap. It throbs at the slight pain, but it twitches when you move on from sucking his tip.

Your only response is a ‘no,’ with your eyes glinting with amusement. And then he lets out a groan of defeat as you resume your position of sucking his length while his thighs flex against his will when you fist the base, using your thumb and index finger. “Dude, I think someone else just came and snagged the gun we needed.” Jake lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, just a little-“ He gets a little frustrated when you pick up his pace.

“Sorry man, something’s happening.” He says lamely as his hips subtly begin to roll, matching the tempo that your mouth creates. You smirk, giving the bottom of his length a harsh suck that makes his breath stutter before pulling off once again, the slickness of his cock is replaced by the warm, cooler air in the bedroom.

“A little... uh?” The grin that decorates your lips is impossible to hide when he gives up so easily. His dick was now hard as a fucking rock. But you’re not satisfied yet. And your thumb gently strokes over the swollen and glistening red tip that’s oozing beads of his pre-cum.

Jake swallows audibly. “A little more...” Your boyfriend doesn’t even know what to say anymore. All he can focus on is your mouth and your hand, both stroking him so perfectly and he just wants to come right there, but he knows that he needs to finish the game first.

He lets out a whiny moan, throwing his head back when you take his length into your mouth once more, hollowing your cheekbones and sucking hard. He’s close. His hips jerk upwards and his thighs tense as he tries to hold himself still. “Fuck! FUCK!”

Jake Jensen lets out the most pathetic whimper as your lips pop off of his cock. “What was that? I can’t hear you.” His hands tighten around the controller, trying his best to ignore your teasing tone.

You give him a few more pumps with your fist, watching the muscles on his neck contract. His eyes are squeezed shut as his jaw goes slack.

And then you stop.

“Y/N...” His voice is hoarse, raspy and strained, like he hasn’t spoken all day. “Baby, please. Please let me come.” Jake’s voice sounds broken and desperate. And his hips are moving erratically now, trying so hard to chase the friction you were just supplying.

“You want to come, Jake? Do you want to fill this little mouth up?” You whisper softly, your hot breath ghosting along the shell of his ear as he nods vigorously, unable to respond. “Then beg.” You command.

“Please,” he pleads with a whine, “please let me come.” He chokes out the words as if it hurts him not to be able to release.

“Good boy.”

The praise sends shivers down his spine and you can see the way his muscles clench under your fingers and you smile to yourself, leaning over and taking the head past your lips again. He lets out an animalistic growl as soon as he feels you sucking him down once again, and you can tell how close he was from just those simple words alone.

“Oh, my god.” The words leave his parted lips like a prayer before you hear the controller drop onto the floor with a thud. His body tenses, the muscles straining against their bonds as he finally spills himself over your tongue with a strangled cry that echoes around the room. “Oh fuck, yes. Yes!” Jake’s chest heaves rapidly and his breathing is ragged when he finally relaxes into the mattress.

His body is still shaking slightly from his powerful orgasm when you pull away from him slowly, licking him clean.

His blue eyes are dark and hooded when they meet yours as he pants heavily, his cheeks flushed pink. You lick your lips before crawling on top of him and giving him a soft kiss on his lips. “That’s better.” You murmur against his swollen lips.

“I love you.” He whispers back. “I’m gonna marry you one day.” You can’t help but giggle at the statement.

“You’re such a dork.”

#jake jensen #chris evans #jake jensen fanfic #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen blurbs #jake jensen imagine #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x female reader #jake jensen x y/n #the losers fanfiction #mywriting

[anna-hawk]

Just the tip

Pairing: Shane Walsh x F!Reader Fandom: The Walking Dead Rating: E 🔞 WC: ~1,3K

Warning: more or less just light smut with a bit of crack. The title honestly says it all.

A/N: After yesterday's angst, here's a lighthearted and spicier moment with Shane.

Coming back home from your shift, you quickly checked your phone to see if you'd gotten a text from Shane, but left it on the kitchen counter as the phone showed you no notification. You hadn't really expected anything anyway, since Shane was working and probably didn't have the time to message you.

Heading upstairs for a much-needed shower after spending the day running around in the heat of summer, you couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that he hadn't replied to your text. You had barely seen each other all week, with your schedules not aligning in the slightest. If you were working, he was off work, and vice versa. You barely spent any time sleeping at the same time either, with Shane mostly working the graveyard shift this week while you headed out later in the morning when he'd be coming home.

Letting the water rinse away the long day, you couldn't even begin to look forward to the start of a lazy weekend. You'd been invited to one of your closest friends' birthday party and were supposed to head over in an hour's time. As much as you loved your friend, the only saving grace was that Shane was meant to join you later on. His shift would be ending around 8pm today, and after the party, you'd finally be able to relax together as the both of you had the weekend off.

Finishing with the shower, you quickly got ready for the party so that you could chill for a few minutes before heading out again. You went into the leaving room and got comfortable against the side of the couch after putting in your earphones and playing some music to finally continue that book you'd barely had the time to read all week.

As you felt yourself nodding off, you decided to put the book to the side and return upstairs to find the pair of shoes you wanted to wear with your summer dress. With the music still playing in your ears, you entered your room before going to the dresser that was facing the bed and picked up the shoes lying in front of it. Turning around to head downstairs, you let out a screech of surprise as you suddenly came face to face with Shane. The motion caused you to take a step back and hit the side of the bed, ultimately having you land on the mattress with a gasp, the shoes falling out of your grasp and to the floor.

Quickly removing the earphones that had stopped you from hearing Shane coming home and following you into the bedroom, you were barely able to shoot him a surprised grin before the man was on you. His lips covered yours as he slotted himself between your legs for a deep kiss. You groaned into his mouth as his body pressed yours further into the mattress, your hands immediately going to his shoulders and hair, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his uniform shirt and his curls. The move only served to have Shane growling as he deepened the kiss further, his tongue sliding hotly against yours while he devoured your mouth. The hand that wasn't holding him up, grabbed your hip and tugged your ass to the edge of the bed, a small gasp escaping you at the action, while your legs loosely wrapped around his hips. The same hand began stroking over your thigh and side, going higher and higher until it reached your neck. The fingers wrapped around it in Shane's trademark move and had you baring your neck all the more at the touch. Shane's fingers around your throat never ceased to drive your lust to the highest point. His thumb rubbed over the hollow of your throat and had you whimpering needily, your fingers tugging at his hair in response. Mouthing along your jaw, you felt Shane panting against your skin as he rubbed his hard-on against your panty covered mound and circled his hips.

“Fuck,” he breathed vehemently, as he pressed his forehead against your neck.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned through your heavy breathing. “Thought your shift was ending at 8.”

“It is. But we were in the neighborhood and I just wanted to see you for a sec.” He sucked underneath your ear as he spoke, which had you groaning and jerking your hips into his. “Your dress distracted me.”

You could only laugh breathlessly before you grumbled as you realized that you didn't actually have the time for more than just this, since you were supposed to leave as well. You reluctantly started pushing at him, thinking that he'd get up since he had to go back to join Rick in the cruiser, but Shane actually pushed you back down and found your lips again with his.

“Shane,” you gasped against his mouth, as his hand slid down your body and between your legs.

“Just wanna feel you,” he muttered, gliding two fingers over your covered folds and making you feel just how wet you were from his touch.

“Shane!” you intoned with more insistence as you heard the zipper of his pants going down. “We… We don't have the time.”

“Just the tip… please.” He kissed you again.

You uttered a sound between a laugh and a groan, but didn't stop him as he pushed the fabric of your panties to the side, and you felt the thick head of his cock breach you. Your head moved back as Shane didn't stop as he'd said, and instead pushed his whole length inside you.

“You're such an asshole,” you got out on a long moan, which had Shane chuckling against your throat before he grunted as he bottomed out.

You dug your fingers into his shoulders in retaliation, but Shane only pulled out to slide right back inside at the same, slow pace. How you'd missed this, having him over you, inside you, clearly wanting you. Lifting his head by his hair, you kissed him deeply while his hips never moved faster. As much as the two of you clearly wanted this, needed it after the long week, you both knew that there was no way that you had the time to finish.

“You feel so good, Darlin',” Shane groaned, his hips snapping suddenly and taking your breath away all the more.

“Ah—Don't you dare come without me, Walsh,” you warned, while your walls squeezed around his cock reflexively at the increase in pressure.

You were about to push him off, hating to do so since the only thing you wanted was to spend the rest of the day in bed with him, but his radio crackled to life on his shoulder and filled the room with the voice of the dispatch. Shane muttered a few choice curse words against your shoulder before he forced himself up and pulled out of you. You felt the loss keenly and rubbed your legs together before adjusting your clothes again. Getting up as well as you watched him talk into the radio, you finally put on your shoes. The both of you would have to walk it off, it seemed.

Shane looked at you once he was done talking, then led the way downstairs.

“See you later, Sweetheart.” He kissed you lightly, the exchange much chaster than what you really wanted to do, as he opened the door and walked down the couple of steps leading to the walkway.

“Yeah…” you smiled and waved at Rick, who was leaning against the cruiser with a knowing smirk on his face as he watched Shane approach.

Smiling softly at Shane's small laugh and wave goodbye, the man clearly wanting nothing more than to stay with you, your only thought was that you couldn't wait for the weekend to start.

#shane walsh x reader #shane walsh x f!reader #shane walsh #jon bernthal #reader insert #shane walsh fanfiction #shane walsh smut #the walking dead #mes fics #ficlet

[fruitcoops]

May It Never Leave You

Fic O'Ween Day 11: Monster--or, What You Have, What You Hate (Logan's Version). Everyone's favorite dead horse is back, babey. Kudos to @noots-fic-fests for their hard work and @lumosinlove for these characters (and an outstanding Vaincre update today) .

TW memory loss, hospitals

Sunlight yawned over the horizon. Logan ticked another day in his head. 52 hours. Nearly a new record. The last time he didn’t sleep for two days, he and Finn had just finished playing Yale.

At least the apartment smelled better than their dorm had. Leave it to Leo and Finn’s monthly Target dates to find the best candles.

His head hurt. His chest hurt. Even his fucking eyes hurt, like he had kept them open after diving into the lake. It was a miserable way to feel in an otherwise perfect place—but then again, very little had been perfect recently.

Leo stirred in the curve of his body, not much more than a twitch. He hadn’t been sleeping well, either. Finn was the only one able to keep his eyes closed for longer than an hour (if that) and even he was quiet during the day. Dawn caught their phone screens as it filtered through the sliver of the blinds, all lined up on the nightstand with ringers turned to the highest setting. Just in case.

Logan blinked hard and pressed back into Finn. He needed to feel something solid; needed to feel Finn shift, his arm tightening around Logan’s waist. Something between his lungs throbbed with blunt pain.

“We should visit today.”

Leo’s voice was dull and coarse. Logan nodded into the nape of his neck.

“I want—” He broke off with an audible swallow. “I want to check on him.”

Sirius had woken for nearly twenty minutes the day before. James had been there, and Remus, of course. Logan wasn’t sure they had left yet. Remus certainly hadn’t looked like it. But their excitement was momentary at best when Sirius’ sleepy greetings turned incoherent, and he slipped back under for the rest of the day. Logan shook the whole way home.

“D’accord,” he murmured, tucking his knees into the hollow of Leo’s own. His belly was tense under Logan’s palm; he rubbed slow circles over it and kissed the curve of Leo’s neck. “We’ll go.”

Finn’s alarm went off at eight. They let it ring itself out. Nine minutes passed and it went again, a cheerful jangle that faded into silence. Slender fingers curled up against Logan’s collarbone. Finn’s cheek was flat on his shoulder blade, shaky breaths passing warm air over his skin. He let go for less than a minute. The alarm didn’t ring again.

Leo had the courage to check his email at nine and Logan half-read it over his shoulder, little blue dots disappearing unread into “[Gmail] Trash” under a thumb with the nail chewed down to the quick. He kissed the little-dipper trail of faint freckles up Leo’s shoulder and nudged at his wrist until he set the phone down with a tired smile and allowed Logan to coax him onto his belly, shifting closer. His cheek was pillow-creased when he turned. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Logan passed his thumbpad along Leo’s cheekbone, and blue eyes fell shut.

They didn’t get out of bed until ten o’clock. Breakfast was a quiet affair despite the radio and the sizzle of the stove. “Someone should text Remus,” Leo said as he passed eggs to Logan to crack. “See if he needs anything.”

Logan fought a wince. Sleep. Therapy. For someone to physically remove him from that place. According to James, they had only just managed to make him take a walk around the upper floor of the hospital. He’d been sleeping in a chair. Logan hadn’t pressed for more information, and the guilt gnawed at his ribs. “We can bring…sandwiches. Or something. Maybe books? A change of clothes?”

“Toothbrush,” Leo suggested, prodding at the scrambled eggs. “That might be nice.”

Logan carefully sliced another section of the green onion before speaking. “James brought his toothbrush. And a hoodie, I think. I can ask what they need.”

“Are they letting him stay?”

“Loops?”

“James.”

“Non, only immediate family.”

“I’m so glad they got married.”

Logan turned and saw Leo do the same. Finn was rinsing his fingertips under the faucet, but nothing in his face told Logan he was paying any attention to it. The purple under his eyes was nearly mauve in this light. “Me, too,” Leo said softly.

“Just—can you imagine?” Finn cleared his throat, shutting the water off. “I mean, Loops would be losing it. Immediate family. I wonder if they’d call…y’know.”

Logan wasn’t going to think about that. He had been trying very, very hard not to think about that for nearly three days, now. None of them needed monsters under the bed when the real thing was bad enough on its own.

“Well, they didn’t,” Logan said briskly. The handle of the knife dug into his hand; he forced it into steadiness and moved the next handful of onion over. At the stove, Leo’s shoulders were tight up near his ears. “And we’ll go see him, and it’ll be fine.”

Sirius?

Hmm-mmm.

Buddy, can you hear me? It’s James.

Bonjour.

Tremz, call the nurse in real quick—hey, keep your eyes open. How are you feeling?

Mmm. Bon. Head hurts. Remus?

I’m here, I’m right here.

Tiny green shreds sprinkled onto their eggs, bright and clean. A ‘thanks, cher’ painted onto his temple by a kiss.

Alright, Mr. Black, let’s take a look at that forehead.

Non.

Is it hurting?

Game day. Pick up Reg from practice.

Mr. Black, please try to stay awake.

Baby, just listen—

Gotta pick him up. Reg’s practice.

“You want bacon?”

Logan blinked down at the plates. It all looked beautiful, like his mother’s wax fruit in the living room back home. “Sounds great.” He kissed Leo’s shoulder and dusted the last bit of green onion onto Finn’s portion. “Merci. I’ll get forks.”

A little shiver ran through Leo. He tucked his arms across his body, as if the apartment wasn’t set to seventy-five degrees year-round, but smiled down at Logan all the same. “Thanks.”

“Are you cold?”

“Nah, not really.”

Footsteps padded over and then Finn was there, tugging his sweatshirt off and slipping it over Leo’s head. If nothing else, it got a laugh out of him. Weak—but there. Finn’s glasses sat sideways on his face and Logan poked them back into place with a gentle swipe down the razor-straight bridge of his nose. “I made cocoa,” he said, raspier than Logan was accustomed to this late in the morning. “I’m not really—it’s not a coffee morning, I guess, but if you want some I can—”

His mouth fell quiet against the inside of Leo’s shoulder, muffled by his own hoodie. Logan saw his chest lurch in Leo’s tight hold. He felt a little dumb attempting to wrap his arms around them both and cursed his proportions for the hundredth time, but neither seemed to mind. Leo was still trembling just slightly. Finn was board-stiff; his hand came up and twisted in the pocket of Logan’s pajama pants to draw him close.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, and Logan was trying so hard to be angry.

Leo gave a light cough. “I’m really fucking scared.”

That first night, Logan had fallen asleep praying he would wake in his bed in Rimouski, buried under the heavy blue duvet he had stolen from Aubrey when she redecorated her room on her 13th birthday. It was old and soft and safe and lightly scented with the lavender soap their grandmother mailed from Nice every month. But his stomach had rioted at the thought of waking alone, the last ten years a dream. As horrible as this was, as sick as he felt, God would have to pry this from his cold dead hands before he gave it up. He wished he knew how to tell them that.

Finn was hot at the nape when Logan leaned against him. “We’ll eat,” he suggested, tracing a loose heart over Leo’s mid-back. “Breakfast looks amazing. We’ll shower. I’ll call James. They’re not going anywhere.”

“…I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Finn said quietly.

“I want to take a bath,” Leo murmured into the top of his head. “You can come with me.”

Finn nodded, then swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“He won’t,” Logan said. When Finn didn’t show a sign of hearing him, he nibbled at the curve of his shoulder; a smile twitched his lips. “Hey. Hey. He’s got half the team there already. We’ll bring sandwiches and be popular, d’accord?”

“You need to be muzzled.”

“That sounds fun.”

Finn snorted, pushing at him without taking his face from the sanctuary of Leo’s chest. “Get outta here.”

“Come eat before the food gets cold.” Disregard that nothing sounded worse than eating right now. They had bigger things to worry about, and none of it would be made better on an empty stomach. But maybe, maybe they’d have a kinder day. And maybe Sirius would wake up for real this time. They just had to take it in stages, one baby step at a time.

One. Leo and Finn took a bath.

Two. Logan scrubbed the breakfast dishes.

Three. He tucked Leo close and tight to himself while they put the lunch order in on the couch.

Four. His kiss to Finn’s cheek lingered before his hand came anywhere close to the passenger side door.

Five. Remus was on the floor.

Sirius’ door was closed, and Remus was on the floor.

Logan pushed the takeout bag into Olli’s hands and broke into a run.

“What happened?” His knees smarted on contact with the tiles. Dumo was slackjawed and Remus was fucking white. “Loops? Is he okay? Did something go wrong?”

He’s gone, he’s gone, we lost him.

Someone was speaking, Leo was speaking, Remus was staring into the void like the world had fallen out from under him. His arm was loose and weak under Logan’s hand; he eased his grip and watched Remus’ throat bob. A breathless gasp broke from him before any words. “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

“No, Remus, that’s not…” Dumo looked exhausted. Sounded exhausted. Logan could feel himself beginning to shake, deep in his core where the fear snapped and burned. Deep brown eyes slid over the group before fixing Logan to the scrap of a planet beneath him. “Sirius is alright,” Dumo said firmly. “He’s awake and Pots is with him right now.”

Then why are we all on the fucking floor? he wanted to shout. The burning raced up Logan’s throat and into his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

For all that Logan’s terror blinded him, Dumo didn’t look well, either. “We don’t know the full story, but—”

Nonsense bumbled from Remus’ mouth. His eyes had slipped to the pale tile, pupils dilated, a hundred years away. An exhale rattled in him like a sob chained down. “Five percent. They told me five percent.”

Logan swayed. A hand steadied him when he sat back. Dumo hadtold him about the five percent. Five percent had been hooked in the back of his mind for 60 hours and shaken him from half-waking dreams. But five percent was nothing—was practically zero. Five percent was a liability figure told to prevent a lawsuit, nothing more.

Remus was lifted to his feet, barely, and Logan watched him sit hard in one of the stiff chairs. No tears striped his ashen face. Beside him, Dumo was blinking fast. Olli passed him a napkin from the paper bag Logan had picked up not fifteen minutes ago from the place Remus liked because they had soft-serve ice cream. The place Sirius liked because Remus liked it.

He wasn’t sure if he could get up, now. It seemed he had left his knees at the cashier’s counter by mistake.

“Lo.”

A funny noise escaped him at pressure on his back.

“Lo, baby, come up with me. Come on.”

Thomas was holding Remus around the shoulders. His mouth turned down at the sides while they spoke in low voices.

Logan couldn’t help himself. “Did we lose him?”

“No,” Finn said immediately, voice dropping hoarse. “God, Logan, no, we didn’t lose him.”

“Five percent chance of severe memory loss.” That first night had been so long and so hard. He had stammered his way through a call with his father, though he couldn’t remember a word they exchanged. He knew he had stayed plastered to Dumo’s side for hours while Sirius went through scan after scan, fast asleep. Finn let him push close, let him pretend he could hide in the hollow of his arm. “We lost him.”

It was audacious to claim any part of his pain alongside whatever Sirius must be feeling—whatever Remus must be feeling. Logan couldn’t help it. The chasm of his belly beat not fair! into his guts. Sirius had done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve five percent.

“I want to go back to bed,” he mumbled.

Finn’s hand rubbed along his back. “Okay. We can do that. We’ll get up, we’ll go home—”

“I want to wake up right now.”

“Oh. Oh, Lo…”

“This is not supposed to happen.” Tears clumped on his lashes. He refused to let them fall. He had no right. “This is not. He has to be okay.”

“Pots is with him.” Finn brought him close, and shame burbled up at the way Logan clutched him all too tight. They shouldn’t be doing this with Remus right there. “Cap’s got a lot of good people looking out for him right now. Nobody better. And I have you, and we’ve got Knutty, and we’re just going to take a minute for everyone to calm down.”

Finn was using his storybook voice. Hills and valleys, nearly singsong. It set some part of Logan’s brain mute with old comfort. “I need—I need to help.” His throat scraped when he breathed. “I need to get up or I’m going to stay here for a really long time.”

“I know.” Of course he did. Finn always knew what Logan wanted before Logan did. Drinks, food, kisses. This. He was already braced against Logan to boost him up, for Christ’s sake.

If Logan gave him double that love in return, it still wouldn’t be enough. Not for Finn, who deserved all and more. He wanted to pack him up in softness and seal it with a kiss, keep him somewhere safe and kind forever. They stood together—only a little wobble before he righted himself. Leo had pushed a sandwich into Thomas’ hands and was trying to shepherd the others into it as well. He didn’t like the tension creeping up the back of Leo’s neck.

Remus was still staring at the door as if he’d seen a ghost. Logan didn’t want to go in there. He caused damage. He was shit at fixing it.

He really wanted to be angry at this.

“Please eat.” Leo’s voice was tight and pitched at the start, forced into his measured baritone. His nailbed was white where it pressed into thin wax paper; Logan made a silent note to get him some water from the fountain down the hall.

“Hmm?” Dumo blinked a few times, then startled, as if he hadn’t seen Leo there. His gaze slid from Leo’s face to the sandwich, and he took it with a wan smile. “Ah. Merci.”

He picked at the sticker sealing it, but that was all. Logan had spent too much time around the man day in and day out to be fooled into thinking he was anywhere on this plane right now. Distant eyes and tight wrists. A rigid back, like when they thought Marc broke a rib at hockey practice. Logan wondered if Remus could hear his mind whirring from the adjacent chair.

“Loops.”

Thick gray sleeves sheltered his mouth from view.

“Remus.”

Without the vibrant red letters, the lack of color washed him out. Thomas’ deep blue shirt was harsh next to Remus’ grayscale.

“Re,” Thomas tried again, nudging him ever so gently. Remus made a faint noise. “Hey, you want a sandwich?”

“Not hungry.”

Leo’s brows pitched in the middle—Logan wanted to smooth it away, to kiss it into the ether. Distress was a difficult thing to watch on Leo’s round face. “You need to eat,” Thomas said. He took the proffered sandwich with a quick squeeze of Leo’s forearm, and slid it into the space between Remus’ thighs and body. “Whenever you’re ready, just…we’re here.”

“You should go,” Remus murmured into his forearms.

“No.”

“He’s awake. Not much to do now.”

“No.”

“I don’t—” His voice caught and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Not now, not now. “There’s not a lot to do here. The nurses’ll take care of him.”

“We’re here to take care of you, too,” Thomas said quietly.

Remus closed his eyes.

“Ouais,” Logan managed. Finn’s arm pulsed around his waist; he cleared his throat, willing the clamminess from his palms. “Both of you—yeah, whatever you need.”

It had been such a fucking fight during those first terrible hours. Nearly midnight, and still no answers. Adrenaline and exhaustion, scraps of illness battling with the raging fire inside him while every door slammed in his face with a no, no, family only, I’m sorry. Watching them roll Sirius to a scan room. Leaving Remus and his shaky, feeble smile under the scathing fluorescents. Come back tomorrow. I’m sure someone will call you with an update. It didn’t matter that Sirius would have wanted him there.

Well—that was debatable. Sirius probably would have preferred to pass out in some quiet, dark corner and pick himself up without anyone knowing. But Logan had never let him do that before, and he wasn’t about to start now. Goddamn martyr. If it wasn’t for Leo’s quaking grip on his hand, he would have bulldozed past every too-bright white coat in the place and planted himself at Sirius’ bedside just like Remus had been allowed to. He was always there for Sirius. It wasn’t fair to keep him away because of a silly thing like blood relation.

Leo tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Visiting hours start in twenty minutes.”

A silent request filled with bare-rock hope. Logan took the empty chair and cupped his hand over the back of Leo’s. “I’d like to see him,” he offered. He hoped his meaning came through—I’m here. I love you. I’m here because I love you.

The hand beneath his own turned over and twined their fingers, pale and straight against his own fucked-up knuckles. His hands looked so blunt when they were together. Let alone when Finn, all willowy strength, toyed with his fingers. It was like comparing a sledgehammer to a harpist.

Twenty minutes was a long time to ask Finn to sit still. He may have been more staid than usual, but that didn’t stop him from popping up and down no less than four times for water, trash runs, and to check in with the nurses.

More than once, it was clear he was moving just to move. Logan couldn’t blame him. He needed stillness and silence to process, but the flowing magnitude of Finn’s heart wasn’t meant to sit quietly. He had always hated that part of his concussions the most: more than being benched, more than fear, more than the blinding pain Logan had dampened with his shirtsleeve too many times. If his body couldn’t move, his brain had to, and he was denied both in those dark rooms. Logan had always done his best to ease the strain in whatever way he could. He’d pour himself to drought if it would cool the fire under Finn’s skin.

“Lo?”

Leo had scooted closer on his chair, mere inches from sitting in Logan’s lap. He wouldn’t mind that. Closeness sounded good right now. Logan smoothed the ladder of his knuckles. “Quoi?”

“I…” Leo broke off with a slow exhale through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Was he looking for a lie? The truth? Was he looking for don’t worry, I know what I’m doing or I keep thinking I’ll blink and find Sydney in there with her appendix gone? Logan figured he had fumbled pretty hard this morning. I’m really fucking scared. He still didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe this could be his second chance. Leo was so good at giving those.

He shifted over and let Leo lay his head on his shoulder, resting his own against golden chick-fluff curls. Words rolled between his teeth and over his tongue for a long moment. “I don’t either,” he said haltingly. Finn probably would have sounded more confident. “This is new. C’est horrible. I’m—this is horrible. It’s so horrible.”

Remus and Thomas were making their way down the hallway to the lobby. Something about a phone call, Logan thought. To Lily, or Remus’ parents. It was just good to see them standing. Leo sniffled.

He ducked his head and let his lips rest against Leo’s forehead, right under the tuft of gray hair he twirled around his finger on long nights when sleep escaped them both. “We’re here, though. That counts for something. He’ll be glad to see us.”

“He pushed Loops.”

“…what?”

“He pushed Loops,” Leo repeated. “ ‘S what Dumo was saying to Finn when you got us water. Cap woke up, freaked out, and pushed Loops.”

“Oh.”

“I keep—I mean, what if—” Leo groaned softly and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “God, I’m just turning it over and over in my head. I don’t want him to yell at me. Which is so fucking selfish.”

“When has Cap ever yelled at you?”

“It’s not Cap, though, that’s the problem.”

Logan tried not to flinch.

Leo shook his head. “I want to see him. I really need to, just so I stop thinking about it.”

The large clock on the wall ticked through another minute. They were technically allowed to go in now. Logan wasn’t sure his stomach could handle it just yet. Finn’s foot tapped restlessly ten paces from them while he read one of the dozens of bulletin boards, hands clasped behind his neck. “I wasn’t there from the start.”

He felt Leo look at him. “What do you mean?”

“When Cap was a rookie.” He had heard stories. Seen pictures. It looked bad enough to make him grateful for Harvard, just for some distance in time. He watched Finn worry at the full curve of his lower lip. “But…you know, he was still pretty frozen over when I got here. It wasn’t until Loops that he opened up. Even when they weren’t out. There was only a few months you were here where he was quiet.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were new.” Logan shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. He was a lot of things, but he was never mean. Never yelled.” He glanced back at Leo and tried for a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, soleil.”

“Excuse me?” They both turned at the sound of a new voice. Sneakers creaked on the waxed floors. A dark-haired woman smiled at them, flipping a page on her clipboard. “Dr. Manuel asked me to let you know that visiting hours will run from now until eight o’clock. No more than four people at a time, please.”

She seemed awfully calm. Logan wondered if she had been told about Sirius’ condition. Now that he thought about it, had any doctors come and gone since they arrived?

“Fantastic,” he said. A win was a win was a blessing in this mess. “Thank you.”

He could feel his hand shaking in Leo’s when they stood.

--

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. “We both lived with him. I’m—” This is wrong. “We’re close. You and me.”

Sirius studied him with a wariness that made Logan want to curl up under one of the hall chairs and never come out. His next breath would be pure smoke from the flaming wreckage of hope inside him, he was sure of it. “Parles-tu français?”

Stop talking like that, stop it, why do you sound like that? “Ouais.”

He looked small in the bed. How could he look so small? Where did he learn that, and how fast could Logan run to get away from it? “Tu t’appelles Logan? Un nom Quebecois?”

Leo’s hand must be hurting from how tight he gripped it. Do not let me go. Sirius had always teased him for his fantaisie bon français drilled into him by his grandmother in Nice but this was not right, not right, not right, from the way Sirius’ voice folded in around his words to the lower, softer timbre just barely letting them free. No, Logan thought, he didn’t like this at all. “Ouais. Je viens de Rimouski.”

“Ah. Montréal, pour moi.” His smile was tentative, almost apologetic. Three days ago, Logan had teased him for this very conversation.

“Je sais,” he managed.                                                                                            

A faint humming noise answered him. He had already seen Sirius’ eyes dart over the three of them, clever and quick even when he was concussed. A subtle jerk of the chin made his mouth parch. “Qui sont-ils?”

“Mes copains.”

Logan didn’t have words for the complicated expression that flitted across Sirius’ face. “Les deux?”

“Oui.” He tried for a wry smile, for anything that could quell the riot of too much inside him. “Tu les appelles Bambi et Fleur. Tu m’appelles Thumper, espèce de connard.”

And almost—almost—that got him a grin. It was almost—almost—enough to make up for the ice-water panic filling his lungs with each passing breath. He didn’t like the smell of this place. Remus’ backpack by the chair, where he had been using it as a pillow. The plastic cups that were never stiff enough for a patient to drink from on their own. His mother had helped Sydney drink for three hours after her surgery, while her hands were still too weak not to spill on herself. And when Finn—

“Rookie.”

Logan felt Leo slump into him with a shaky breath. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, that’s—you call me that.”

There was a whining in his ears. A mosquito, or a siren. The sheets were too crisp. They would make his hands itch. Leo’s hand slipped from his own as he wrapped them around himself and fuck it all sideways, Logan couldn’t even comfort his boyfriend properly. He wanted to put an arm around his waist. His shoulder refused to unlock.

Sirius’ gaze dragged over him before sliding to Finn, brighter than before. “He calls you names in French.”

Oh, you piece of shit, Logan thought with startling clarity. “Sirius!”

“It’s true.” Sirius had been stoic for the first part of Logan’s rookie year, fresh off the rush of a disappointing not quite in the second round of the playoffs for the second year in a row. Logan would never forget the relief of nights when Sirius visited the Dumais house, putting aside the professionalism for a dinner that was close enough to home to ease his aching. Sirius had never asked him about Finn, either, content with the simple knowledge that they used to play together at Harvard and still tore it up on the ice.

“Finn,” Finn was saying. “Or Harzy, doesn’t matter much.”

“So you’re on the team, too?”

Logan had needed that presence when he arrived. And the…separation. The wound had been too raw for him to survive someone asking about Finn without the excuse of not knowing what words to use. “All three,” he said now. Sirius smiled, just slightly. His heart gave an unsteady thud-thud-thud. “What, you thought you were the only gay NHL player?”

The smile vanished. Too much. It slammed into Logan like a rogue wave and he bit hard on the side of his tongue. Leo was apologizing now. Apologizing for him. He would never learn, never had. Either he never tried or he pushed so hard a chance shattered in his hands. He could see it on Sirius’ face, all that confusion and fear mixed in with abrupt, sincere concern when James stood with a touch to his shoulder.

A tear slipped down James’ nose when he brushed past them. The whining turned to muddled clangs. What could he even say? I’m not gay? That wouldn’t help. The conversation had moved on; Leo had moved on, leading him forward to the plastic chairs by the bedside.

If he sat, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up fast enough when the feeling tiptoeing up behind him finally grabbed on. The world tipped a degree off its axis and he clenched the back of Leo’s chair in both hands. Remus’ backpack was a lonely black lump by the thin blanket someone had brought for him. Itchy. Everything in these places was itchy. It clung to Logan’s skin for days. He knew how it would feel to pillow his head with rough polyester. White caught his eye—a tag? Remus Lupin, #10, Varsity Hockey Harvard University.

Just a zipper. Tiny Nike logo.

Stitching on the front Tremblay #10—

A patch. Clumsy hand-sewn stitches reinforced on the equipment room machine by an exasperated Molly. Remus loved that backpack.

Sirius was looking straight at him. “Il y a des morceaux.”

How could pieces be all that was left of three and a half years?

A pale face blurred with freckles and Logan blinked rapidly to shake them away. Leo needed this. Leo needed him to keep it together. He could do this.

He moved one hand over, until his fingertips brushed Finn’s sweater.

“You and I run plays after practice sometimes, if I’ve been having a tough time of things,” Leo said. His voice was significantly steadier than before. It was working. Logan could do this. He could help. “I don’t think you and Harzy hang out a lot one-on-one, but Lo’s usually your go-to for video games ‘n shit. We have dinner sometimes with you and—”

The air went stale fast enough to make him choke on it. Finn shifted in his chair.

Genuine puzzlement creased Sirius’ face. “I cook?”

He couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this.”

The door was a million miles away. He was gripping the handle in four steps. The dam was breaking, knocking the sight from his eyes. He braced both hands on cold cream paint, praying, praying that Remus was nowhere near.

Tears were a funny thing. He had never really figured out how to do them right—or at least, how to do them loudly, like when Noelle skinned her knee on the deck and screamed loud enough to make the neighbors come running. For Logan, it felt more like Leo’s beat-to-hell watering can, if the duct tape holding it together ever gave up. Everything kept in, and then everything rushing out at once. Breath and water and salt alike. Rarely noise, but he still pressed his elbow over his mouth and dug his hand into the frame of the bulletin board. Always, always, rawness to the marrow of his bones.

“Lo, oh my god.”

“I’m sorry.” A guttural sound died in his chest. “I tried.”

It was all he had. It would have to be enough. He just—he didn’t do head injuries. Broken fingers and busted ribs and jammed joints, fine, but he couldn’t fucking stand sitting and watching. There was only so much reading he could do. Only so many articles he could struggle through.

“Logan—”

“I’m sorry.”

Looking was a mistake. Finn’s face fell. “Hey, baby—”

“I’m sorry.” Logan sucked in a breath and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to force the tears back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Lo…”

Finn’s hand brushed between his shoulder blades and he flinched, turning away. The tears were fighting him now—fighting him so hard it made his throat ache. He could feel his pulse behind his eyes and ground his teeth. “No, no, no, no.”

“It’s okay.” Finn’s voice had gone soft and unsure and Logan hated himself. “Baby, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. It was never okay. Not like this.

“It’s okay.” He felt Finn move closer, but he didn’t try to touch again. “He’s awake now. He’s making sense.”

A jagged sound punctured Logan’s lung. “It doesn’t.”

“No, I…” Finn faltered. “He’ll be okay, baby. Come on, come sit down.”

Logan’s stomach fell to the floor. “No.”

“Can you—please give me something to work with, Logan, this isn’t—”

“I can’t sit down,” he said thickly. The light blinded him when he tilted his head back for a few harsh breaths. He wanted to cover his face, but his hands shook too bad to be any use. “I can’t just wait here, I’ve done that, I can’t do it again, I won’t.”

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t sit and wait, forbidden from crossing the threshold because he wasn’t family, even though nobody loved Finn like he did and nobody could take care of him like he could—

A shudder rattled through Logan and he sealed a palm over his mouth. The waves howled and clawed at every one of his hairline cracks.

“What’s going on?” Finn sounded sad. Not worry-sad, but different-sad. Confusion-and-guilt-sad.

Muck clogged Logan’s throat. He took a few hitching breaths to clear a path. “It’s Sirius,” he said. “And he’s hurt, and every time I fucking blink I see your face instead and I still can’t do a goddamn thing, Finn, I can’t…”

He leaned into Finn’s hovering hand and fell against his chest with a low noise, pulling at his arms until he was safe.

Finn was here in his sweater and his jeans and Logan was safe.

He couldn’t stop the hurricane. The throbbing and the drenching, out of control. He had let it run its course in Remus’ office, in his basement bedroom, and now here. With Finn. Finn who was safe and whole. Something ugly muffled itself in the broad chevrons across Finn’s neckline, but there was no flinch to meet him.

“Let it out.”

God, it hurt so bad.

“You’re doing great, baby.”

This wasn’t a cry-solution. This had to be a Heather-solution. Logan wasn’t looking forward to that.

Finn’s nose was cold where it dovetailed against Logan’s cheek. “Love you so much,” he whispered. “So, so much.”

The compression of his arms outstripped any weighted blanket by a landslide. Logan flattened his palm against the back of Finn’s neck. There was no energy left in him to keep down a whimper when he felt Finn stroke through the back of his hair and leave a kiss on his cheekbone.

“I’m—” Logan gulped down a fragile attempt at a breath. “I love—fuck shit—”

“Shh, shh, stop.”

“I tried.”

Finn’s gentle scritch to his nape silenced him. How long had they been swaying? Finn had a funny way of coaxing him into a dance before he even knew what was happening. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Jesus, Lo, I can’t even imagine.”

“It’s—it was Syd, and then it was you, and now it’s Sirius—” His breathing hitched on each name, as if unwilling to let him speak, but he was so tired of the silence. “—and what if I lost you, what if you forgot me, how could he forget us? Pieces, Finn, he said pieces.”

If he tried, he could probably stop. The duct tape could be slapped back on. Not perfectly, but he’d manage.

He didn’t really want to.

A gross, clogged sniffle made him feel a tiny bit better. “I’m always so fucking useless here.”

Finn was quiet for long enough that Logan could match their breathing. That, too, gentled the storm. The individual floor tiles were starting to reappear. “You helped me drink water for days,” Finn finally said. “You cooled me down. You slept next to me in a twin XL for—what, a week? You read every assignment, out loud, for two. You made Cap smile.” A sigh gusted over the back of his neck. “You’re not a doctor or anything, but I don’t think anyone can call you useless.”

“I can.”

“I’ve never been a fan of the way you talk to yourself, sweetheart.”

A problem for another day. “Leo?”

“They’re chilling. He’s just glad to be there, I think.”

Distance made him stress. Logan was familiar with the feeling. “You should go with him.”

“Hmm.”

“No, really. I’m feeling better.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you—are you okay?”

Finn took a big breath, let it go in an unsteady huff. “This is just…sad. And weird. And sad. I don’t know.”

Baby steps. One at a time. Finn was here and safe, Leo was right where he wanted to be, and Sirius wasn’t going anywhere fast. Let it out, Finn had said. God knew he was trying. He pried his hands off the back of Finn’s sweater and flexed them, pulled his elbows in until he could hold Finn’s waist. A three-count to lift his head, then a foiled attempt to dry his face before Finn got there. His sleeve took the salt and water before Logan could so much as raise a hand. Despite himself, he laughed.

“Let me take care of you,” Finn said through falsely-gritted teeth, planting an aggressive kiss to Logan’s forehead. He surveyed him for a few seconds, head tilted, before his lower lip slid out. “Aw, baby.”

“I know,” Logan said thickly. “Not everyone can be a pretty crier like Knutty.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Still.”

“I don’t love you because you’re a pretty crier.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not.”

“Yeah, dipshit, I know.” Finn cuffed the outside of his shoulder and Logan dipped his chin against a smile. “I’m aw, baby-ing because you’re sad and I wanna go take you home and wrap you in a blanket.”

Logan sighed. His head fell forward to bump Finn’s collarbone. “I feel like an asshole.”

“Why?”

“Left you all in there.”

“Not sure anyone can blame you.”

“I can.”

“You don’t count.”

“Is Sirius mad at me?”

“Honest to god—and this is really fucking morbid, so like, mea culpa—I don’t think Sirius remembers enough to be mad at us.”

Logan’s lip quavered. “I got him sick.”

“Everybody got sick. You don’t know that it was you.”

Lo’s usually your go-to. “I spend the most time with him.”

“…pretty sure that’s Loops, actually.”

“Okay, well—”

“You’re not winning this one,” Finn interrupted. “Literally everyone on the team was sick at some point, and we saw each other every single day. You want to point fingers? Blame coach for playing Cap’s line that long.”

It was so hard to come up with a defense when Finn was always right. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here’s the plan.” Finn gave a little oof as he helped Logan straighten up and squished his shoulders. There was fine tension around his eyes and mouth that gave way when Logan ran his thumbs over it.  “I’m going back inside. You’re going to go find a bagel place for Dumo and Remus. I’ll text you when Knutty and I are done, we’ll figure out bagel dropoff, and then we’re going home and sleeping.” He must have seen Logan’s hesitation, because one auburn brow arched. “Cap’s awake. He’s not perfect, but he’s awake. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“I hate this.”

“Oh, yeah, this is terrible from every angle. Hence going home and sleeping.”

Logan nodded, then tipped his head toward the door. “Go see Le.”

Finn kissed him sweetly, a hand on his jaw, and obliged.

--

If Finn had been looking for a way to keep Logan occupied, tasking him with finding appropriate late-lunch/ early-dinner bagels was the way to do it. Gryff had dozens—half were closed by this hour, and the other half had to undergo rigorous inspection before Logan would even consider bringing them back to his Manhattan bagel hound of a boyfriend. Remus and Dumo would want coffee, too, even if they didn’t say it. Their respective husband and son was a previously-comatose amnesiac. He couldn’t bring them shitty coffee.

Finally, he found a promising option. Warm interior, short line, music quiet enough to tune out if he needed to. Display cases that were picked over (many customers), but not too empty (still some variety). A clean half-dozen should do.

The barista smiled when he approached the register, despite Logan’s certainly-red eyes and general crustiness. “Welcome in! What can I get started for you?”

“A half-dozen bagels, please. And two medium coffees, light cream, light sugar.”

“What kind of bagels?”

He hadn’t prepared for questions. Why hadn’t he prepared for questions? “Which ones are good?”

“What’s the occasion?”

“My—” Motherfucker. The tears snuck up on him, rushing to the front until he had to tip his head back with a frustrated breath. The barista’s hand hovered over the computer screen. Questions. He should have prepared for questions. There was a reason Finn always ordered for them. A strained, embarrassed smile was all he had to offer. “Desolé. My brother’s in the hospital.” His torso squeezed. “That’s the occasion.”

The barista seemed to freeze for a moment. “I’m…really sorry,” they finally said. “God. Wow. My bad.”

“It’s fine.” Logan shook his head. “Two plain, one sesame, one cheese, and two of the sandwich things, please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” The barista started to turn, then faced him again, lowering their voice to soft concern. “Do you have someone with you? I just—my cousin was sick, and it was hard to be there alone. If you needed help.”

“He’s awake,” Logan assured them. The next person in line had stepped back a half-meter, looking pointedly at their phone. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected. He watched the barista wrap the two plain bagels before he felt he could trust his voice again. “He’ll be okay.” It felt funny to say aloud. Different than reassuring Leo or Finn. More confident. “We’ve got family around. Friends. We’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” they said with sincerity he hadn’t prepared for, either. Each bagel was carefully placed in a paper bag; a large sticker held the edge down. The sides were warm when Logan pulled it to himself, and the coffee steamed in two balanced cups.

“How much do I owe you?”

They waved him off. “Please, don’t worry about it. Just…have a good day. Be with your brother.”

He sighed through his nose. “You can’t stop me from tipping you.”

“Oh—”

He stuffed two twenties in the painted mason jar by the register and stepped back immediately, tossing a half-smile to the barista. “Have a nice afternoon.”

--

I need to go. I really need to do this.

Logan hadn’t fought him on it. He was tired of fighting. And not against Leo—never against Leo. Finn knew New York best; the safest winter roads, the quickest routes. Logan was content to play homemaker and listen to their back-and-forth. He simply fixed two sandwiches and a baggie of snacks for the ride while they talked it out on the couch.

The roads’ll be dark.

I can drive in the dark, it’s not a problem.

I topped off the tank yesterday, but you should refill outside the city if you need to. There are more when you’re out of Manhattan. They’re easier to get to.

Thanks, sweetheart.

You’re going to be okay? Finn’s voice had been tight with worry. Logan wasn’t sure it was entirely about Leo driving. You’re—you know, you should stay here for tonight, we can all go pick him up early tomorrow.

The sound of their soft kiss made the house warm. I won’t be sleeping, Leo had said. I’ll keep you both up. He’s been texting all day and I don’t want to make him get on a train right now.

Logan had managed to tempt him to the couch with a cup of tea and an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Finn wasn’t far behind, and Leo dozed on his chest for the show’s second half. Thirty minutes could satisfy his worry if he stretched it. The adrenaline shakes had stopped an hour prior.

I don’t like this. Finn’s arms were tight around him while they watched Leo turn his headlights on and wave goodbye with a blown kiss. I don’t like this at all.

He’s a good driver.

I keep thinking…

I know. Did Logan ever. But it’s not us. So we’re here, and we’re helping.

Finn’s nose pushed into the crook of his neck; a deep breath made his stomach hurt.

We’re here, he had repeated, tangling a hand in the back of Finn’s hair. We’re safe. Je t’aime. I have a bagel place I want to show you in the morning.

--

“LoLo?”

“Hi.” Logan winced at the scratchiness of his own throat and glanced back down the hall, where Katie was just skipping back into Sirius’ room with Regulus in tow. “Hey, hi. What are you up to?”

“Um…folding my laundry, at the moment.” Silence fell over the phone. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. And you’re—you’re okay?”

“Wishing I didn’t have to do my laundry, but yes,” Sydney laughed.

His heart eased. “Bon. Good, okay.”

The sole of his shoe was starting to peel away from the toe. “What’s going on?” Sydney asked, quieter.

He shook his head before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Nothing, just wanted to talk.”

“Did something happen with Finn and Leo?”

“Non, we’re fine.” His stomach was shivery, like he’d gone too long without eating despite the sesame bagel lingering on his tongue. “Figured I’d call.”

“Black is still in the hospital, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“He’s awake?”

I remember you. Not everything, but I know you. “Up and talking. Making sense.”

Sydney hummed. He heard the light thump of a folded sock hitting her drawer. “He’ll be fine, petit. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I miss you,” he said quickly, before his mouth could force it all back. “I just—I miss you and I wanted to call.”

“Aw, LoLo.” Her sigh crackled in the hospital’s sketchy wifi. “I miss you, too. Christmas feels far this year.”

“Ouais.”

“You want me to get the girls on FaceTime?”

As if he could handle that right now. All three of them, scattered across a continent instead of safe in a pillow fort. “Non, it’s alright. I might…call, or something. I don’t know.”

This was stupid. He shouldn’t have interrupted her evening. But he so desperately needed to hear her voice after catching a sideways glimpse of Sirius’ dark hair from the open door.

“Take your time,” Sydney said easily. “I’m here all night, doing nothing. Have you heard from Obbie lately?”

“No, why?”

“She’s doing some sort of award gallery thing. Sounded neat. I’ll text you the link.”

“D’accord.” He could see her when he closed his eyes. Two loose braids to her shoulders, their father’s sharp jaw. Practiced hands flipping socks around each other, deft from gloving pucks. She had always poked and prodded and teased him more than the other two—a function of their close years—but had never once flaked when he reached out. He wasn’t sure how to thank her for that. He cleared his throat and heard it echo back to him. “You’ll call me, right? If you need things.”

“What would I need?”

“Just. I don’t know. Things.”

Her laugh was light, fond. “Yes, LoLo, I’ll call if I need things. Check your messages for the link.”

“I will.” He started to lower the phone, then brought it back to his ear. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

“See you at Christmas.” His lips felt shaky. “Or—whenever. If you’re around, or anything.”

“Goodbye, Logan,” she said slowly, though he could hear her smiling. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Take care. Give your boys my love.”

“I will.”

It was another five-count before either of them hung up.

#logan tremblay #leo knut #finn ohara #remus lupin #pascal dumais #sirius black #thomas walker #noelle tremblay #sydney tremblay #coops #cubs #sweater weather #vaincre #coast to coast #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove #hurt/ comfort #angst with a happy ending #sibling comfort #fic o’ween 2023

[artist-issues]

Been a while since we've heard, how did your readthrough of the Harry Potter books go?

Hey! Ho! I forgot to update on that didn't I? My bad!

I haven't worked out all my feelings about it! The last book was so...odd. I felt frustrated through the whole thing. Most of the books felt like you were waiting to figure stuff out—the main characters would try to get information and solve problems and fail or cause more problems in the process, but there was usually some secondary goal they consistently had hope in. Like, maybe Harry Potter can't figure out who's trying to kill him, and has constant setbacks in that. BUT, their secondary goal, winning the Tri-Wizard Cup, is usually...hopeful. They're usually doing well with one of their two main goals, and then the climax happens, and they lose something important, but ultimately ene on a hopeful note. You know, Harry wins the Tri-Wizard Cup, but Voldemort's back and Cedric is dead, that sort of thing.

But. In the conclusion of the series, it felt like the main characters were getting nowhere, in their primary goals AND their secondary goals, for so long. Then the ending, the pacing of it all, felt rushed. And I didn't love the plot device of the Elder Wand, or how in the climax of the book, when Harry is fighting Voldemort, they stop to have like a twenty-minute conversation about all the exposition the reader needs to know to understand how Harry is about to beat him—and Harry was basically insufferable for the whole book.

that was my initial impression. It might age better if I go back and re-read. I definitely like some of the Messianic notes of Harry dying for everybody—then picking his life back up again to defeat the bad guy once and for all.

and they killed Lupin. Which. He's my favorite I thought he had the most interesting "character arc" of any of the adult characters. It seemed like his biggest fear was inadequacy as a father, heightened by the fact that he's a werewolf, so he thought he'd make his son's life harder and more shameful by even being alive...so as part of that interesting character flaw, Lupin tries to kamikaze by going on the run with Harry. Then he goes back and resolves to live with his wife (who he wrestles with the safety of loving) and child (same wrestling match) because being present as a father and husband is the right thing to do, regardless of how difficult it is for you.

And then he dies anyway.

So it's like. What the heck was the point of that? Makes the lesson he, as a character, was teaching, hollow. Like "Living as a good father is harder than dying a martyr—but I'm dead, so I don't have to worry about that, I guess the thought was what counted."

And people will say to me "nooo he was willing to take risks and sacrifice! He sacrificed his life! To make a better world for his son!"

Yeah okay but we already had self-sacrificial love impacting an orphan's life through the death of parents in the main character. Lily and James Potter did that. Already got that lesson. Now tell a story about how just going on and living your life for someone, say to day, especially when it's hard and they might not thank you for it, is also self-sacrificial. I thought that was the mini-story Lupin's character was telling, on the side of the main plot. But then no, Rowling just repeats herself. She just starts an interesting thing and then finishes it in the least-interesting way.

I feel like one of the basics of storytelling is "create a character that needs to learn something. Then put them through the hardest circumstances so that they're forced to change into what they need to learn." Dying in battle was not Lupin's hardest circumstance. You know what would've been? Killing Tonks, his wife, so that he's forced to raise their son alone and still stay—or keeping them both alive, but Lupin's curse is worse than ever after the battle. Or just simply keeping them both alive, and putting a little nod in the epilogue to how Harry's kids defend Lupin's son from bullies, and it's hinted at that society still doesn't accept werewolves and their lives aren't perfect, but they're all sticking around for each other.

I mean you don't even get to have Tonks react to Lupin's death. And the only Weasley that was killed was one of the twins—don't get me wrong, that's still horrible. But if you're trying to make a point about the losses of war, kill a character who is one-of-a-kind to the audience...not one-of-two.

Also, the thing with Snape and Lily didn't hit. Haven't analyzed why, yet. There's something to be learned about showing and telling there. I mean, what the author showed me for seven books was a mean and nasty man who loved nothing. I experienced it with Harry. I tasted the sting of the insults and the cruel remarks and the unfairness. For seven books. You know what's less powerful? A handful of pages quickly info-dumping the idea that no, he was in love and acting out of unrequited love all along. Like anti-heroic Snape is a compelling idea to be told about, but it's not nearly as strong as the experience of being shown villainous Snape, moment by moment, book by book.

Same thing with Dumbledore's emotional reveal of his own history. Like. Okay. But you only just now told me I should care about Dumbledore's family, in the last half of the last book. I don't feel as badly about him and his family as I would've if you'd slowly shown me who they were, even in memory, for the last seven books—like she did super well with Lily and James and Sirius.

anyway. Those are my half-baked thoughts. I was also...running a super high fever and reading the last few chapters at 1 in the morning, at the time. So they're super underdone thoughts. Thanks for asking!

#Harry Potter #Remus Lupin #J.K. Rowling #writing #asked #answered

[hollowtones]

After starting college, I realized I haven't read much this entire year and so I picked up House of Leaves and got done in about a week. Have you had a "fuck it I'm not gonna finish it if I put it down" book, video game, or any other work of art you wanted to complete?

I feel like something similar enough happens with most books I read, haha. 90% of the time I'll pick up a novel or a comic, go "hey this is pretty cool", and then I get into a fugue state and a couple hours suddenly disappear and I'm at the end of it. Most recently my sister lent me her copy of "A Prayer for the Crown-Shy" before my trip (which IS a short read, to be fair), & I thought "oh maybe I'll just read a bit of this on the last leg of my flight & then take in the sights out the window" and I ended up devouring the whole thing in a sitting. LOL

I guess that's less "I won't finish this unless I finish this NOW", though. I find I don't really get that way about a lot of things. I'm very comfortable putting down a book or a game or a show for months-to-years & then getting back to it whenever the mood strikes. I have at least two books I've been slowly pecking through for like six months now." I still haven't technically done everything I wanted to do in "Hollow Knight" & it's been over a year but I know I'll go back when the mood strikes. I didn't feel like touching "Dark Souls II" for months, even though I was having a great time with it, but I can feel the urge coming on back & it'll be fun to climb aboard again soon. I think I read a couple hundred chapters of "One Piece" in one shirt burst & then go anywhere from a month to a year before I go "oh man I should read more". I've got no qualms with doing something later or saving something 'til I'm in the mood for it, and I've got no qualms with starting again or peeking back a bit for a refresher.

[ambrossart]

Bad Omens

summary: after experiencing the most unlucky morning of his life, eddie is convinced that doom is on the horizon. all his friends think he's just being paranoid, but then jeff receives an unexpected request from you, eddie's little harbinger of misfortune.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 4,633 warnings: middle school, young!eddie, insecure!eddie, language, bullying, teasing, secret crushes, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

It was a dull, dreary, rainy morning for all the students hanging out in the Hawkins Middle School cafeteria. They sat in small, quiet clusters around the room, eating, talking, scrambling to finish last night’s homework. Jeff was part of the latter group, and like everyone else, he was having a hard time staying awake. 

While the rain pattered softly against the window, he sat slumped over the table with his chin on his wrist, struggling to resist sleep’s sweet siren song. His social studies book lay in front of him, open to his current reading assignment: something about the Incas or the Mayans (Jeff couldn’t keep them straight and, this late in the school year, he didn’t have the motivation to care). He kept reading the same sentence over and over, but the words always got lost in the fog of his thoughts. His eyes, listless and heavy-lidded, blurred with tears every time he—

Another yawn snuck up on him, threatening to split his mouth wide open. Jeff raised his head and surrendered to it, let it wash over him and then drift away, leaving little pools of moisture in the corners of his tired eyes. He wiped them away with his sleeve, put his chin down, and went back to reading.

“Dude, you gotta stop yawning,” Grant said. Then he let out a big yawn of his own.

He was slicing through the school’s frozen waffles with a fork. Inside the other compartments of his tray were two greasy sausage links, a cup of assorted fruit, and two cartons of milk. Grant always bought an extra milk because one was never enough. 

“They’re too small,” he would say. “You finish one before you’re even halfway done with your food.” 

“Boy, this is riveting stuff,” Scottie would answer. “Now, Grant, how ‘bout you share with us your thoughts on the basic four food groups? For instance, should fruits and vegetables really be grouped together?”

Then someone, usually Eddie, would tell Scottie to shut up, and that would be the end of it. 

“God, these are awful,” Grant was saying now, while he stuffed a waffle square into his mouth and forced himself to chew. “Just look at ‘em. Pale, lifeless, cold in the middle. It’s like they have no pride in their product.” 

“And yet you keep eating it,” Scottie said while he doodled in his notebook. “See, Grant? You’re part of the problem.” 

“I have to,” Grant answered with a shrug. “You know I can’t go to class on an empty stomach. When I get hungry, my stomach growls really, really loud, and I’ve got a test coming up. Can you imagine what it’ll sound like in a room that quiet? Everyone will hear it and they’ll know it came from me. I can’t handle that kinda stress.”

Scottie’s doodling hand slowed. He stared at Grant with bored, blinking eyes. 

Then he said, “I keep going back to the tombs. I feel like the tombs are crucial.” 

Jeff lifted his chin off his wrist. “What?” 

“He’s talking about his campaign.” 

“Oh.” 

Shocker. Scottie was always talking about his campaign. 

“I still haven’t come up with a name for it,” Scottie said. “So far, I’ve got Into the Delves, The Delves of Dunmar, The Delves of Dunland, Digging in the Delves, Digging in the Dark Delves…” 

“Why are you so stuck on ‘delves’?” Jeff asked. 

“I dunno, I just like the way it sounds.” 

“Yeah, but I thought it was about a tomb.”

“Well, what’s a delve?” 

“It’s not a tomb! A delve is like a cave or something.”

“A hollow,” said Grant, “or a pit… a grotto.” 

“It’s also a verb, which means ‘to dig,’ which would make half those titles kinda redundant.”

Scottie’s shoulder sank. “Well, shit,” he said. “Now I’m back to square one.”

He tore out the page and crumpled it up. 

“Hey, where’s Munson? He usually comes in hot with all kinds of weird ideas. They’re usually shit, but sometimes there’s a little diamond hiding in there, and I pluck it out and shine it up real pretty until it glows into a sparkling, wonderful idea.” 

Jeff cracked a smirk. “You’re like Rumpelstiltskin spinning straw into gold.” 

Scottie squinted at him. “Rumple who?” 

“Rumpelstiltskin. It’s a German fairytale. Sorry, my lab partner got her hands on a book of Grimm fairytales and now she’s like Mother Goose. She brings them to class and reads me her favorite ones. Except these aren’t nice, happy fairytales. These are like weird and creepy. Like in one, this girl gets kidnapped by a rabbit or something and is forced to marry him.” 

“Oh, ‘The Hare’s Bride,’” said Grant. “That’s a good one.” 

“You know it?” 

“I know a lot of things I shouldn’t.” 

Scottie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Grant, you’re just a well of knowledge. A giant, giant well.”  

Grant ignored him and went on talking: “I thought she was into Lovecraft.”

“No, that was last month, thank God. I’m so glad that phase is over. Those stories are the stuff of nightmares.”

“Speaking of nightmares,” Scottie said. “Did anyone else get a weird call from Gareth last night?” 

Jeff and Grant shook their heads. 

“Well, he called me at like eleven o’clock ranting about the Antichrist and the end of the world. It took me a while to decipher what he was actually saying, but I guess he was watching The Omen last night, and a bird flew into his window and broke its neck, so naturally he started freaking out, like Gareth always does, and the whole time I was thinking, Dude, this why your mommy doesn’t let you watch horror movies. The kid just can’t handle ‘em.” 

“Weird,” Grant said. Then he perked up and said, “Hey, here comes Eddie!” 

Their friend had come gusting in from the rain and was now trudging through the cafeteria, stomping muddy shoeprints all over the tile. He had yet to draw back the hood of his black sweatshirt, which to the rest of the students, gave him a striking (and amusing) resemblance to the Grim Reaper. Some of them snickered as he passed. One girl cupped her hand over her mouth and said to her friend, “Go back to the graveyard, Eddie Munster,” and the girls tittered hysterically while clinging to each other. Eddie pretended like he couldn’t hear them, but he could. He always could. 

He threw his backpack to the floor, ripped off his hood, and slammed both his hands onto the table. 

“Guys, something horrible’s about to happen.” 

“Yes!” Scottie said, pumping his fists excitedly. “Let’s fucking go! You’re all worked up. You’ve got that crazy intensity in your eyes. This is gonna be just what I need. Hold on, lemme get a new page ready. Make sure my pen has plenty of ink.” He scribbled with his pen, gave a satisfied nod, and settled back into his seat. “All right, gimme some straw, Rumpleskillskin.” 

A deep crease formed between Eddie’s brows. “What’s he talking about?” 

“Just ignore him,” Jeff said. He closed his social studies book and gave Eddie his full attention. “What happened, man?”

Eddie pulled out a chair, sat down, and dragged his fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, so last night I woke up with this horrible and just uneasy feeling, y’know? It was like this massive weight was just sitting on top of my chest. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. It was fucking terrifying.” 

“What, you mean like sleep paralysis?” Scottie said. “Was a demon sitting on your chest, like in that…? Wait, what’s that painting again?” 

“The Nightmare,” Grant said. 

Scottie snapped his fingers at him. “Yes, thank you! ‘The Nightmare.’ Is that what you had, Munson? Did you have a little nighttime visitor? Did it whisper to you in the dark? Did it tell you secrets about the afterlife? Or maybe, you know, give you ideas for my campaign?” 

“Oh, would you stop?” Jeff said to him, and Scottie threw up his hands, as if to say, What? I’m desperate! 

“Keep going, Eddie. You woke up with a really bad feeling. What happened after that?”

“Okay, so while I was laying there, I thought back to what Gareth said earlier. Did you guys know a bird flew into his window last night?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Scottie threw down his pen in frustration. “That’s what this is about? The fucking Omen? Eddie, relax, the Antichrist isn’t coming, okay? You and Gareth just have overactive imaginations and like to drive each other crazy with your paranoia. You guys need to go outside and get some fresh air every once in a while.” 

“What?” Eddie said. “I’m not talking about the Antichrist! Look, something bad’s gonna happen, you guys. I can feel it. And right now I’m having the worst day of my life. My alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I was running really fucking late. The roof started leaking from all the rain, and everything on my desk got drenched. My books. My homework. Everything. It’s all just ruined, so I dunno what I’m gonna do about that. Then the chain came off my bike while I was riding to school, and I crashed face-first into a puddle of muddy water. It was disgusting and I think I swallowed some of it. I had to walk my bike the rest of the way, and who did I see as soon as I got to school? Her. Because, of course, I would see her on the worst morning of my life. I see her every other morning, why would today be any different? She was just sitting on the steps with a book on her lap. I swear, it was like she was waiting for me or something. She smiled that smile and giggled that giggle, and she said, ‘Rough day, huh, Mudson?’” 

Scottie stifled a laugh. “She called you ‘Mudson’? Okay, that’s actually kinda clever.”

“It’s not clever,” Eddie said. “It’s not funny. It’s not cute. Y’know Gareth’s all worried about the Antichrist, but… as far as I’m concerned, the Antichrist is already here, and her name is—” 

“She��s not the Antichrist,” Jeff said. “Now you’re just being overdramatic.”

“Yeah, well, her giggle signals doom, so…” 

Scottie said, “What, is she like a banshee or something?” and his eyes lit up. “Oh, a banshee, I like that. A banshee wailing in the dark. Shrieking… shrieking… Yes, I’m starting to feel it now. There’s definitely something there.” 

He put his pen to the paper and tuned everyone else out. Meanwhile, Jeff leaned back in his chair and gave a solemn nod.

“Okay, Eddie, you had a bad morning, I’ll give you that, but that’s all it was, man. A bad morning. It doesn’t mean something horrible’s about to happen to you.” 

“Yeah,” Grant said. “I mean, there’s a logical explanation for most of that stuff. Like your alarm not going off? You probably lost power at some point last night. The leak in your roof? Well, dude, you live in an old trailer and it was raining pretty hard last night. Leaks like that are bound to happen. It sucks, but it’s really not that weird. And chains come off bikes all the time. Same thing happened to me last month. As for your little doom-giggler, well… that girl’s always giggling at you.” 

“Exactly,” Scottie said as he put down his pen. “She’s just your little heckler, Munson. Just a sweet little sixth-grader that likes to watch you squirm. God, I’d love to meet this girl. I wanna go up to her and shake her hand and thank her for giving me so much entertainment this year. I’m really gonna miss her.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said. He leaned onto his forearms and went quiet, simmering in his thoughts. 

“Feel better?” Grant asked after a minute. 

“No.” 

“Well, have a fruit cup.” 

Grant plucked his cup off his tray and set it down in front of him. 

“Thanks,” Eddie said, and Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, relax, man. Try to look on the bright side. School’s almost out, summer vacation’s coming up, and we’ve got three months of D&D to look forward to. Scottie says this campaign’s gonna be the best one yet.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie muttered. He stuck his fingers into the cup and felt something wet slap the top of his hand. 

It was an orange wedge.

“What the fuck?” 

He drew back just as a second wedge came skipping across the table. It landed beside Grant’s breakfast tray. Then a third bounced off the side of Jeff’s head—“Ow!”—and plopped onto Scottie’s notebook.

“What, is it raining oranges now?” Scottie made a sickened face and flicked it away. “Is this part of your apocalypse, Eddie?” 

“No, I dunno what this is.” Eddie turned his head and—“God dammit!” 

Andy Hauffman and Clay Howard were sitting a few tables over and throwing orange wedges at them. Andy said, “Thought you could use some vitamin C, Munster!” and fired another one. It clipped Eddie on the shoulder and left a wet mark on his sweater. 

Jeff ducked down and said, “Wait, why do they think Eddie needs vitamin C?”

Scottie shrugged. “Because they wanna boost his immune system?” 

Grant sighed. An orange landed on his thigh. “They mean vitamin D.” 

“Oh,” Scottie said. “See, that makes more sense, because Eddie’s so pale and hates the sun.”

“I don’t hate the sun!” Eddie said, and winced as the next wedge gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He wiped the wetness away with his hand while Clay gave Andy a high five and said, “Nice one, dude!”

Eddie turned around and glared at them. Clay just laughed and chucked another one. Eddie swung his hand at it, missed, and got hit anyway. After that, he finally gave up and put his head down on the table. “I fucking hate this school.” 

“Dude, just ignore them,” Scottie said. “They’re idiots, man. They can’t even insult you properly. Besides, you should consider yourself lucky they only throw fruit at you. Last week, they depantsed me and shoved me into the girls’ locker room. I’ve never heard so many girls laugh in my life. They’d never do that to you, though, ‘cause they’re too scared you might bring a knife to school and stab them.” 

A stunned silence consumed the table. Jeff had his hand pressed to his forehead. Grant froze in mid-drink. An orange wedge struck his cheek and made it jiggle. 

“Hey—” Jeff began in a low voice. 

Eddie pushed himself to his feet, yanked his backpack off the floor, and stormed out of the cafeteria. 

“Oh, come on, Munson,” Scottie said as he went by. “It’s funny ‘cause your dad’s in prison! Everyone thinks you’re gonna shank someone. Oh god, there he goes again… off to find a dark corner to brood in… Poor, Eddie, nobody understands you, waah, waah, waah.”

“Dude,” Jeff said. “Enough.” 

“What?” Scottie said. “I’m just trying to toughen the guy up a little. If he thinks middle school’s bad, high school’s gonna be a nightmare for him. What, does he think people are suddenly gonna stop thinking he’s trailer trash? I had a stutter when I was six and they still call me ‘Suh-Suh-Sloman.’ Kids suck. They’re always gonna suck. He needs to accept that and move on.”

Scottie picked up his pen, put it back to the paper, and sighed. 

“I went too far, didn’t I? Oh shit… I’ll make it up to him later.” 

Grant finished his breakfast in silence. Jeff opened his textbook and returned to his reading assignment. 

“You know what, though,” Scottie said after a while, “I kinda know what he’s talking about. There’s something in the air today. I dunno how to describe it. It’s like electric or something. I can feel it pulsing through my veins. Yeah, I think something really exciting’s about to happen, you guys.” 

Jeff hadn’t given much thought to what Scottie had said, not until he sat down in his fourth-period science class. 

It was the strangest thing. As soon as his back pressed against the cold metal chair, a tingle ran up his spine and made all the little hairs on his arm stand on end. Electric, he thought, and immediately shoved the thought away. Come on, get ahold of yourself, Jeff. He wasn’t about to get all worked up over some silly superstition. 

At eleven-o-one, the door swung open and you walked into the science lab, your nose wrinkling instantly from the sharp lemon scent of disinfectant. 

Oh good, Jeff thought. A weird, whimsical story from you was sure to mend his frayed nerves. All right, Mother Goose, what creepy tale do you have for me today?

You slid into the chair beside him, laid all your materials on the table, and said… nothing, absolutely nothing. This morning, you were oddly quiet. Disturbingly quiet. Instead of gushing about your latest obsession, you were staring at the empty chalkboard and tugging at your sweater sleeve. This made Jeff a little anxious. 

“No stories for me today?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Hm? Oh, uhh, no… not today.” 

The book of Grimm fairytales lay on top of your notebook, its cover lightly speckled from the rain. How long did you sit out there waiting for him? Jeff wondered. Ten minutes? Twenty? He could almost picture it: you sitting out in the cold, barely sheltered from the rain, huddled over your book, frowning miserably, trying to stay warm, trying to read, stopping every other sentence to look up and see if Eddie had arrived yet. Man, say what you want about her, but you gotta admire the girl’s commitment.

With this in mind, Jeff decided to shift to a different tactic. He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. 

“So… Mudson, huh?” 

And just like that, your eyes sparked with life, like two little lightning bolts.

(Electric)

You placed your hand over your mouth and giggled. It was impish yet innocent, and it brought a much-needed smile to Jeff’s face. 

“So he mentioned it, huh?” you said, delighted by the thought. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Yeah, he definitely did…” 

“It just kinda slipped out, you know? He showed up all wet and muddy, and my brain naturally mashed the two words together.” To illustrate this, you smashed your fist into your palm. Then you broke up into giggles again. “Oh my god, you should have seen his face, Jeff. He was so pissed!”

“Yeah, well… Eddie’s not having a very good day.” 

Your chest rose with a sharp breath. “Why? What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeff said, but he knew you would anyway. 

You fell back against your chair, dejected, and dropped your gaze to the floor. In a small, guilty voice, you said, “It really did slip out.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jeff said. “Like I said, don’t worry about it, okay? It’s not because of you.” 

The rest of the students came trickling in and class finally began. 

Afterwards, while everyone was packing up and getting ready to go to lunch, you turned to Jeff and said, “Hey… uhh, you know that fantasy game you’re always playing?” 

“You mean D&D?” 

“Yeah, that one,” you said, and suddenly that strange, tingly feeling had returned. It had jumped off the chair and was now crawling up Jeff’s back like a big, hairy spider. He looked at you and wondered if you felt it, too. 

(Or maybe he was just losing his mind. Or having a stroke.) 

Jeff rolled his shoulders a few times, trying to rid himself of the feeling. Then he snatched his books and quickly headed for the door. You followed him out. 

“So, umm, hypothetically speaking, how would one go about joining? Like, is there an interview or an application process? Do you have to sacrifice your firstborn child? What’s the procedure here?” 

“Uhh, I dunno,” Jeff said. “Nobody’s ever really wanted to join before. Why? You interested?” 

“Kind of… I mean, it may have crossed my mind. You know, you just make it sound so interesting when you talk about it.”  

“Oh,” Jeff replied with a sly smile, “so I’ve piqued your interest, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

Jeff nodded, still smiling. “And this has nothing to do with your massive crush on Eddie?” 

“No…” You paused, fell a few steps behind, and ran to catch up with him. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Well, not to Eddie. He thinks you hate him.” 

You cringed. “Yeah, we kinda got off on the wrong foot…” 

“Yeah, you got off on the wrong foot and just kept on walking, didn’t you?” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault! School really brings out the worst in me, you know? I can’t relax. I feel like I always have to be on the defensive. Middle school is basically hell on earth, and I’ve had to develop some really sharp edges in order to survive this place. Sometimes I cut people without meaning to. And he’s just so sensitive, Jeff. Every little comment sets him off.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s Eddie for you…” 

“A tragedy is what it is. He has all this potential, but he’s just wasting it! Right now he’s Bruce Banner, but he could be the Incredible Hulk if he wanted to.” 

Bruce Banner? The Incredible Hulk? Boy, Jeff was really starting to regret lending you his old comic books. 

“Look, Eddie doesn’t wanna be the Incredible Hulk, okay? He wants to be Bruce Banner. He just wants to blend in and be left alone.” 

“Well… too bad! I want him to be the Incredible Hulk. And don’t pretend like you don’t agree with me, Jeff. Eddie would be so much happier if he would just stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. He can do it when he’s playing guitar on stage. Why can’t he do it at school?”

“Because Eddie’s a very complicated person.” 

“I know. He’s fascinating.” You hugged your books close to your chest and let out a dreamy sigh. “I just don’t understand why he tries so hard to pretend he’s boring and normal. His crazy side’s way more entertaining. I’ve seen glimpses of it when he thinks nobody’s paying attention. Oh my god, Jeff, he’s such a little weirdo! He gets all dorky and hyper, but then he notices me watching him and, you know, runs away. It’s such a bummer. Like, stop teasing me with the trailers, Munson, just gimme the full show! It’s like he’s got a little monster hiding inside him, and I just wanna rip it out and unleash it on the whole town!” 

Jeff put his hand up to stop you. “Okay, don’t ever say that to him. Ever. Trust me, the last thing Eddie wants to hear is that you think he’s got a monster inside him.” 

You both turned at the end of the hallway. Jeff’s shoulder accidentally bumped against yours and he drew back suddenly, with a jerk. There it was again, that spine-tingling, unnerving feeling. Except this time it wasn’t in the air. It wasn’t clinging to his chair. This time it was radiating off you like some invisible force field. When Jeff touched your shoulder, he felt it surge through his whole body like a shock of static electricity.

“Oh my god,” he said, “you’re Eddie’s bad feeling!” 

You scrunched up your face. “What?” 

Jeff gave his back to you and broke into a near-jog. You chased after him, calling his name. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you, okay?” Jeff ripped open his locker and dumped everything inside. When he closed the door, you were standing on the other side, staring at him with confusion. “I mean, what do you think’s gonna happen, anyway? You think Eddie’s gonna wanna date you or something? Because I can tell you right now that’s never gonna happen.” 

A silent gasp escaped Jeff’s lips. You stared at him with a startled, wounded expression.

“Oh, damn it,” he said, and knocked his head against his locker door. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“Whatever.” You sniffed loudly and wiped your runny nose on the back of your hand. “I mean, you’re probably right, anyway. It’s not like I’m blind or stupid, Jeff. I know I’m not exactly the prettiest girl in school.” 

“Oh, come on, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” you said, and wiped your nose again. “Eddie’s fourteen and next year he’s going to high school. He’s not gonna be interested in dating some twelve-year-old, not even if she was a lot prettier than me. I know that. I’m not delusional or anything. I’ve already accepted that my parents had sex two years too late, okay? I’m not quite tall enough to ride that rollercoaster. That’s why I need some time to… well, you know…”

“Get taller?” Jeff said, cracking a smile. 

“Exactly,” you said, and giggled. “Look, I know Eddie doesn’t think very highly of me right now. I bet he thinks I’m really annoying, right?”

“Yeah… he called you the Antichrist this morning.” 

“See, that’s… Wait, he called me the Antichrist? Seriously? That’s what he thinks of me? I’m the spawn of Satan?” 

“Pretty sure he was just exaggerating.” 

“Yeah, that better be some crazy hyperbole ‘cause I dunno how I’m supposed to recover from that.”

You both laughed at that for a minute. Then you squeezed your hands into fists and gave him a pleading look.

“I just need time, Jeff, and right now I don’t have enough. School’s almost over and next year Eddie’s going to high school. He’s gonna be gone for two years while I’m trapped in this purgatory that is middle school. This summer’s my last chance to spend time with him. To make a good impression on him. Show him that I’m not the Antichrist. Holy shit, I still can’t believe he called me the Antichrist! Like, I know he doesn’t think much of me, but that seems a little harsh, doesn’t it?” You gave your head a shake and refocused. “But, hey, that’s okay. I can dig myself out of that hole. It might take me a while, but I’ll get there eventually. And then maybe, like in a few years or so, he’ll start to like me, too… maybe… but I’m not expecting anything. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s definitely the ideal scenario, but I’ll settle for whatever I can get at this point. Shit, anything’s better than the Antichrist, right?”

You gave a helpless but hopeful shrug. Jeff rubbed the back of his neck, mulling it over. 

“You know you’re putting me in a tough spot here.” 

“I know.” 

“And Eddie’s really not gonna like this.” 

“I know.” 

Jeff sighed. “Okay,” he said, and your face lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. “But listen to me: if I do this for you, if I stick my neck out for you, you have to promise to be on your best behavior, okay? You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into here. This isn’t just a game for us, especially not for Eddie. He takes his D&D very seriously. It’s like sacred to him. He’s not gonna like you goofing around.”

“I won’t goof around. I won’t, I won’t.” 

You did. 

A lot. 

Sorry, Eddie, Jeff thought, looks like your nightmare’s about to come true.

He walked into the cafeteria with his tray, found his friends sitting at their usual table, and sat down.

“Guys, I’m calling an emergency party meeting.”

Eddie’s whole body tensed with dread. “Why? What’s going on?”

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x dwm!reader #dancing with myself #dwm #dwm mini fic #dwm middle school fic #ambrossart

[ghosty-schnibibit]

alright, so, now that i am not an incandescent ball of fury:

i was extremely disappointed with go2 and downright angry about the way it concluded. i've already read some excellent posts by other lovely people that articulate some of my grievances really well (which sadly i can't link here or the site will eat this post entirely) but i want to add my own to the pile. if you enjoyed the season then more power to you, but i very much did not.

after this post i won't be complaining about s2 again or really posting anything about it at all, positive or negative, and will probably just block the tag entirely. like i said in my much shorter vent post last night, i just want to get all of my negativity out in one go and then pretend it doesn't exist. with that out of the way:

the pacing was terrible. the plot went in circles around itself and the mystery was handled so poorly that it somehow managed to be too convoluted and too simple at the same time. we spent five entire episodes wondering what was going on only to have it resolved by an exposition dump of about five minutes. the mini-sodes ground multiple episodes to a halt and squandered the majority of the season's runtime on pointless fanservice that cheapened some of the previous season's most emotional moments, runtime that could have been better spent setting up the gabriel mystery or developing literally any of the new characters introduced. speaking of which,

the new characters were pointless. nina and maggie were given no characterization beyond being pale expies of az and crowley, and the fact that a substantial part of the b-plot revolved around them makes this even more apparent. i do not remember the name of the angel pretending to be a constable and i don't care enough about them to look it up, they had literally no plot significance whatsoever. same goes for the processing demon from the third episode. the flip with jax from being a somewhat neutral character to a big bad in a party city wig felt like a failed attempt to recapture some of what made hastur and ligur work in the previous series.

gabriel and beelzabub. their relationship was unbelievable and clashed so heavily with their previous characterizations. i called it from the first episode and dreaded its conclusion right up to the finale. they feel like an ill-thought parody of ineffable husbands pulled out of an enemies-to-lovers crackfic. every romantic moment in the last episode was insipid and cloying, and them getting a consequence free happy ending retroactively cheapened the stakes of the previous season. it honestly felt like the writers just wanted to mash their dolls together.

aziraphale's character was assassinated and crowley was basically just there to play the hits. both of them were flanderized to the moon and back, but poor aziraphale got the worst of it. all of his character development from the previous season was thrown out the window in order to give us the big angsty conclusion set-up for a third season. they were both utterly flattened and i feel so bad for michael and david, they were clearly doing the best with what they were given but what they were given was just plain bad.

most of the humor and warmth from the book and the previous season were just… gone. no narrator, only one or two comedic asides from the title cards, a total of maybe three minutes of queen music across the whole thing (and most of that a piano cover), and a whole lot of little stylistic touches that went by the wayside and left the world feeling a bit hollow. also the comedy in this season was much more reliant on a "hey, aren't the characters acting so silly right now? aren't they failing at looking/acting normal? isn't that funny?" style of humor than on the wit and subtle satire of the first.

it was nothing but set up for a third season. learning this after finishing the season did not make me feel better about any of it, but it does explain a bit why it felt like all set up and no pay off. i have zero confidence about the ship being righted in a potential s3 that we likely will not see for many years (if at all, i'm already hearing murmurs about the show getting axed).

so that's basically it. i'll reiterate that if you enjoyed this season then i have no beef with you; your opinions are your own and, while i have no desire to have a dialogue about them, i respect them. but the original good omens book was very personally meaningful to me, as was its adaptation in s1, and this poorly thought out continuation has disappointed and saddened me to the point that i feel like i don't want to engage with the fandom in its wake.

#go2 spoilers #good omens 2 critical #good omens 2 negative #i know the ship dealio is where i disagree with people the most #bc i'm seeing a lot of people who have a lot of the same critiques of the pacing and tone but like beez and gabriel together #to which i will simply say i'm sorry your otp is my notp and move along my merry way like the fandom veteran i am #and with that i shall disappear into the void again

[neewtmas]

a non-exhaustive list of fic recs for lockwood & co and stranger things

Under the cut you’ll find my Lockwood & Co and Stranger Things fic recs.

These fics are in no particular order and are the ones that stood out most to me while reading. All of these authors have other writing that should be checked out! Most have their masterlist pinned at the top  of their blog, which is why I didn’t link it seperately. 

Have fun reading these excellent pieces of fanfiction❤️

Lockwood & Co

George

by @maraschinomerry

How to Stand (friends to lovers, fluff, both povs, George teaches reader how to use a rapier)

Matching Mates (friends to lovers, george has a crush, locklyle teasing him about it, Fittes Ball, bestfriend!Lucy is scheming)

Matching Mates Part 2 (established relationship, fluff)

Stay Safe (Reader and George fight a visitor together)

Important Research  (friends to lovers, both povs, george is the sweetest,  misunderstandings, fluff)

I’ve got your back (angst + fluff, hurt/comfort, cuddling)

Offerings (angst + fluff, getting possessed by a ghost)

by @givemea-dam-break

Pretty (friends to lovers, bestfriend!Lucy, locklyle, Fittes Ball, jealousy and awkward George,  he’s a little idiot tbh)

Little Notes (love confessions through letters)

Touch (Gorge is jealous of Lockwood, fluff, a little angst)

masterlist for Lockwood x reader

by @lewkwoodnco

Wildest Dreams (strangers to lovers, reader works at Fittes, very in-character George, slight angst but happy ending)

Be More (valentine's day, FLUFF, george is a little awkward, food fight!! feels like a warm hug)

by @oblivious-idiot

london calling (reader works at Fittes, friends to lovers, fluff)

midnight comforts (after the boneglass, nightmares, cuddling, fluffyyyy)

the break of dawn (fluff, pizza for breakfast, watching a movie)

late night collisions (friends to lovers, fluff, george is bad at uno, stealing shirts)

the only exception (ghost touch, fluff, george is the swe etest)

Stuck in the middle with you by @stray-kaz (18+ only!, reader contacts the ghost of Annabelle Ward, angst, fluff, smut)

Sleep Tight by @honey-lavender-latte (friends to lovers, comforting George, cuddles, his pov)

Lockwood

Just another love song by @tangledinlove (friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, love languages, George and Lucy have to intervene, long!!)

I take you like you do your tea, with lemon and with honey by @lewkwoodnco (first person Lockwood, Lockwood is in love, pure poetry)

Deck The Halls (and not your partner) by @bella-rose29 (long! 12 part series, enemies to lovers, fake dating!! set around christmas time (with everything that entails), fluff, angst, mildly spicy towards the end, lockwood is a little shit from time to time, fantastic couple dynamic)

escapism by @aislinrayne (18+ but no actual smut, reader is drunk, insane tension, lockwood is a simp, lot's of lockwood pov)

Little Pink Heart by @maraschinomerry (SAD, NO happy end, established relationship, reader dies on the job, it's a beautiful read tho)

Locklyle

that funny feeling by @givemea-dam-break (ANGST and only ANGST)

Untitled by @lucelockwood (the most beautiful thing you'll ever read, 100% pure love)

Borrowed Time by @waitingforthesunrise (angst, post Hollow Boy, serial killer prompt)

Policy 8 by @the-biscuit-agreement (on AO3, very long, it feels like reading another Lockwood & Co book, angst, fluff, it has everything)

The Whole World Filled With Silence by @13atoms (focus on Lucy, post canon, talents fading but it's bittersweet instead of angsty)

Just An Act by @czenzo (extremely in character, so funny, the skull is the best)

George & Lucy

5 times George missed Lucy, 1 time he admitted it by @givemea-dam-break & @ikeasupremacy

Stranger Things

Series

Dancing with myself by @ambrossart  (finished, fluff and angst, happy ending, ALL the feels and just simply amazingly written, everyone needs to read this one)

You are in love by @missscarlettangel (finished, strangers to friends to lovers, kinda slow burn, just a super sweet feel-good story and absolutely worth the read)

Eddie Munson

Dirty Dreaming by @eddiethefreakkmunson (smut! best friends to lovers, Eddie has a wet dream about the reader and deals with the repercussions)

Listen to the Trees by @ethereal27cereal (includes smut, fluff, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, plus size!reader, ‘there’s only one bed’-trope, a very handsy wet dream,  both povs)

My favourite Person by @pollenallergie (best friends to lovers, slow burn, starts out with them as little kids)

Oneshots

by @copycatkillerfics 

Head over Heels/ Code Lime Green (fluff, friends to lovers, kinda insecure but very in love Eddie, Dustin plays matchmaker)

Angel/ What’s left unspoken (angst & fluff, friends to lovers, both povs, cliche in the best way)

A spark (angst and fluff, friends to lovers, truth or dare goes a little wrong, butterflies guaranteed) 

Since the Sunflowers (angst and fluff, shitty boyfriend alert, Eddie is a sweetheart in love, happy ending)

by @marymunsonloves

Hellfire Babes (best friends to lovers, you wear Eddie’s clothes and he can’t handle it, both povs, halloween party)

All dolled up (angst & fluff, friends to lovers, slight misunderstanding, a little jealous Eddie)

More to love (best friends to lovers, implied plus size reader, Eddie helps you with body issues, accidental confession)

by @munson-blurbs

Flattery works with me (smut, a revealing bikini at the pool is all it takes to get Eddie going)

Clueless (fluff, the hellfire boys push Eddie to ask you out)

Bookworm!reader (fluff, shy reader, Eddie joins reader in detention)

by @singularattitudeofasafetypin

If you wanted me, you really should’ve shown (friends to lovers, kinda shitty boyfriend, Eddie shows you what you’re missing in the most beautiful way)

How you get the girl (friends to lovers, Eddie overhears you telling Steve how to step up his game, Eddie’s pov)

Crazy Forever (established relationship, Eddie is insecure)

by @corrodedcoffins

Different Kind of Jealous (best friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, both povs, all the good stuff)

New Outfit (fluff & angst, friends to lovers, reader tries to appease Eddie by changing her looks, confession during a fight)

Man of my dreams (smut!, best friends to lovers, reader has a wet dream about Eddie, relentless teasing, the gang hangs out together, platonic steve x reader moment, jealous Eddie)

Love comes walking in (best friends to lovers, fluff & angst, jealousy, Eddie is a clueless idiot, Dustin is the sweetest little guy, Eddie makes it up to you beautifully)

by @sunflowergirl522

Teardrops on my guitar (best friends to lovers, Eddie is so in love, jealousy, mutual pining, misunderstandings)

He’s my brother (strangers to lovers, mutual pining, movie nights)

by @forever-rogue

Miscommunications (best friends to lovers, fluff & angst, jealousy, a fight, mutual pining, insecurities)

In which Eddie drives you crazy (friends to lovers, fluff, intense flirting from Eddie)

by @eddie-van-munson

Elvira’s Movie Macabre (friends to lovers, bestfriend!chrissy, fluff & angst, both povs, Eddie is an idiot, but he makes it up to you)

Peanut Butter Cookies (best friends to lovers, jealousy)

masterlist by @ghosttownwherenoonegoes (found it hard to narrow down here)

meet me at midnight by @maria-scribbles (fluff, aquaintances to lovers, new years eve party, henderson!reader)

Are you leaving? by @fluffansmut (fluff, both povs, Eddie is insecure)

The Morning after by @ashtonsbff (fluff & angst, best friends to lovers, insecure reader and insecure Eddie)

is something wrong with me? by @djarintreble (best friends to lovers, mutual pining, some insecurities, Eddie shows you that there is nothing wrong with you)

Taking Eddie’s virginity by @usedtobecooler (smut!, best friends to lovers)

One Call away by @uselessastheginlasagnaa (fluff & angst, best friends to lovers, toxic/abusive relationship but Eddie is always there for you)

I think I’ve loved you forever by @cinemaquinn (smut!, fluff, best friends to lovers, insecurities, misunderstandings, mutual pining)

hold me like i’m more than just a friend by @heartthrobinsficrecs (best friends to lovers, intense fluff, henderson!reader, mutual pining, Eddie is your first kiss, both povs)

Someone that actually likes me by @oddlykilledghosts (aquaintances to lovers, fluff, Dustin’s a matchmaker)

Angels & Demons by @galaxy-siren (friends to lovers, fluff, bestfriend!chrissy, halloween party, both povs)

Have you seen my sweatshirt by @waratah-moon (established relationship, cheerleader!reader, fluff)

On my doorstep by @softharrington (smut! friends to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, both povs)

#ficrec #stranger things 4 #eddie #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #george karim #george karim x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood #fic rec

[milfswriter]

Innocent

Alma Peregrine x Reader

Request by @queerpersonified: Peculiars assuming reader is dangerous and shouldn’t be around kids, when in reality she’s a very loving, nurturing supportive wife and parent (I have a feeling that would get on Alma’s nerves REAL FAST)

Notes and warnings: reader's peculiarity is being able to show memories (like transform the room into that specific memory? get it? and no it can't be tampered with lol)

You walked into Ditch house after finishing a shift with Sharon to monitor who enters and exits the loop through the panloopticon, sighing as you saw the children from different loops disperse at the sight of you.

It wasn't anything new, you'd been living here for the past few weeks and you should've gotten used to the weird looks and Ymbrines hiding their children behind them at the sight of you already.

But how could you? They were judging you based on a lie that the peculiar press has been spreading for the past 30 years. you bit your lip nervously, looking around the house for Alma or anyone you knew but you couldn't find them. You brushed it off and sat on a couch, reading a book before hearing someone clearing their throat.

You looked up to see a boy you recognized to be from Miss Cuckoo's loop. "Who allowed you to sit here?"

You raised an eyebrow, "Do I need permission to sit? I thought we shared this house"

He scoffed, walking away before Enoch stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Don't ever talk to Y/n like that"

_________________

You tried to ignore the staring as you carried Claire around the house, their wary looks making you feel like they were about to snatch her from you any second.

Later that day, you were invited by Alma to join her in the council meeting to discuss dealing with the desolations Caul has been causing. As you reached the meeting room, you knocked on the door hesitantly before coming in, a flood of relief washing over you as the first thing you saw was Alma's soft smile.

"Now that we're all here, I'd like to-"

"What is she doing here?" You turned to see Miss Cuckoo grimace at you, her cane hitting the table.

You stayed in your place near the door, waiting for Alma to kick you back out.

"I beg your pardon" Alma's questioning tone made you feel the slightest of relief before Miss Cuckoo made her way to you, pointing at you with her cane.

"For all I know," she spat, her french accent thickening "she's working with Caul! She shouldn’t be in here!”

"Isabel!" Alma's tone was hard, a glare burning holes at her friend. She couldn't understand her fellow ymbrines, why would they treat you like you were a time bomb, about to explode any second.

"How. Dare You!" you yelled, the room falling into silence once again. Even Miss Avocet was too shocked to say anything.

You were always respectful, holding doors for Ymbrines and bowing your head to them whenever you saw one of them even when the look of disgust was apparent on their faces, so seeing you yell at one was nothing less of shocking.

"I..have been trying for DECADES to rectify my mistake! it was an accident! I DID NOT CONTROL THAT HOLLOW! I did not order the deaths of those children!" you were fuming, you had enough.

"Y/n. That is enough" Miss Avocet said, moving her wheelchair as if she was about to ask one of the ymbrines to escort you out.

"No, it is not. I am sick of this treatment which I absolutely do not deserve! I am not a monster, nor a killer" you caught your breath before turning to Miss Cuckoo.

"And you!" you pointed to her, her face contorted in surprise "how dare you accuse me of working with the one person who ruined my wife's life? hm? you dare say that so openly, too"

"ENOUGH!" Alma's voice echoed through the room, you were waiting for her to kick you out of the room, but she herself left the room after pulling your hand.

You were following her silently. "This! is Y/n Y/l/n! an innocent woman who had done nothing wrong in her entire life! whatever lie you've been told has to stop. NOW!" the children watched with horror, whispering to one another.

"Show us" she told you, looking back at you as you stood behind her shamefully.

"Alma, you don't have t-"

"Show. Us" you gulped, closing your eyes as you began to remember that wretched day, sighing as you felt the room change into that dark alley.

You watched your past self's hands tremble at the sight of the children behind that hollow, you didn't know what to do.

"get away! run!!" you yelled but they couldn't hear you from the hollow's growls. You kept on screaming for them to run since they couldn't see the damn thing, but they kept in their place, looking around for any sign of danger but found none other than the sounds of the hollows.

You didn't have any weapons, you couldn't have possibly fought the beast by hand but you still tried to run.

You fell on you knees as you saw the hollow scoop the three children up with its tongues, closing your eyes as their screams echoed through the alley.

The memory faded as you hid behind Alma, whose hands were shaking as she closed her eyes. She's never asked you to talk about any of that, let alone show it.

The room was silent and as you looked up Alma's shoulder, they were all staring at you. Ymbrines children and even Addison, who's always told you he believed your story.

You looked at Alma's still-frozen frame, you'd scared her, you shouldn't have shown this memory. Your thoughts were interrupted by your wife clearing her throat, turning to look at you with teary eyes.

Your lips trembled at her stare, gulping as the older woman pulled you into her embrace, which elicited a soft sob from you as you clung to her for dear life.

"oh, y/n/n" she whispered, "I'm sorry you had to witness that" You shook your head, letting go of the woman in front of you and looking at the others.

"I was a hollow hunter" you admitted, "just like Abe Portman, but one day, things went wrong and..those children died. It wasn't my fault and I would never work with Caul Bentham even if it cost my life" you felt a tug at your pants to see Olive with tears in her eyes as she hugged you.

"I know you would never do that to us" she hiccuped, making you sigh as you leaned down and picked her up. You shouldn't have shown the damn memory, now you scared your children for others' stupid opinions.

Alma cleared her throat after seconds of silence, her hand resting on your lower back.

“I believe you all owe miss y/l/n an apology”

Taglist:-

@ara-a-bird @mmemalwa @multifandomfix @thenazwife @mistysswampmud @yelenablshop @acornacre @yourfavdummy @jestercat28

#alma peregrine x reader #miss peregrine x reader #alma peregrine #miss peregrines home for peculiar children